


Chasm

by FutureMrsStabler



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29107629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FutureMrsStabler/pseuds/FutureMrsStabler
Summary: Captain Olivia Benson receives the shock of her life when her detectives uncover a case that reveals a devastating secret about the former partner that she hasn't seen in nearly an entire decade.
Relationships: Olivia Benson & Elliot Stabler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

The first day that he woke up and found himself in a bed with pillows, blankets, and a down comforter, his immediate assumption was that they had finally killed him. 

There was no other explanation. He was actually relieved, so much so that he started to weep. Now he could be with his kids again and this time never be separated from them. He was completely free, something he'd thought would never happen in his lifetime again.

Then he looked around more closely and realized with a sinking heart that he was still very much alive. He could feel the warm air of the heater blowing next to the bed and feel the sharp headache behind his eyes that was a daily misery coming back. 

There was no doubt about it, though-he definitely was in a bed. A nice bed. And he could get up the moment he felt like it. So that told him that he was either dead or dreaming.

****

****

****

****

A sudden sharp knock made him jump. He looked over and saw a door open across the room. A man wearing a suit stepped one foot inside and leaned in far enough to be seen.

"Good morning," the man said. "If you'd like some breakfast, I can get it brought up or you can go down to get it, whichever you prefer. There are clothes in the bag by the desk." 

The man pointed. He blinked and then looked over to see a large white plastic bag there.

"You'll need to meet me in the lobby in an hour so we can get your paperwork and bus pass sorted," he went on. "Feel free to take a shower if you want."

He blinked at the man for a long moment and then nodded dumbly. The man nodded back and backed out of the room, closing the door.

He swallowed, his face crinkling in slight confusion, and then robotically pushed himself out of the bed. He walked slowly over to the plastic bag and looked inside. He saw blue jeans, white socks, and a nondescript white sweatshirt, along with a pair of black shoes. Everything appeared to have been previously worn before.

He crossed the room and stepped into the bathroom. He touched small bottles of shampoo and soap, a wrapped toothbrush, and a razor that all sat by the sink. He didn't open any of it. He walked back out, crossed over to the bed again, and sat down on the end. 

He buried his face in his hands. He couldn't process what was happening and was still in slight denial that he wasn't dreaming.

F.B.I. Agent Tom Moore was sitting at a small table in the dining area of the hotel skimming a newspaper when he came out of the elevator 40 minutes later. He tugged self-consciously on the stiff neckline of the unfamiliar sweatshirt as he approached.

Agent Moore looked up at his arrival. "Breakfast?" he offered, waving his hand over the plate of food in front of him.

"Not hungry," he answered.

He stood fidgeting next to the table. Agent Moore dabbed his face with a napkin and stood up. He picked up a small manila envelope laying by his elbow and opened it.

"Alright then," he said, pulling items out one at a time, handing him over as he spoke. "Here's one bus pass. This is a hotel voucher for any location in the city giving you a room for a maximum of four nights and three days."

He watched the items being put into his hand. He felt like he was underwater, not quite sure what to do.

"This is a prepaid cell phone with 500 minutes, expiring at the end of the month, a $100 Visa gift card to use for meals, and a list of shelters with available spots open." 

Agent Moore took out a business card and a pen, scrawling on the back messily.

"This is my number at headquarters," he said, placing it on top of the list. "Call me anytime."

Moore finished speaking and stared expectantly. Clearly, his job was now over.

A heavy beat passed. Swallowing hard, he looked at the man in front of him. Hesitation played on his face.

"What happens now?" he asked.

"Now?" 

Agent Moore looked surprised at the question. He furrowed his brow.

"Well, Elliot-"

He flinched at the name. He still wasn't used to hearing it again.

The agent shrugged.

"Now...you figure out where you want your life to go from here and what you want to do with it. We've provided these resources to help along the way." He

He looked almost sympathetic.

"There's a list of victim support groups in there," he went on. "They might be able to offer more assistance than we at the Bureau can. Other than that, what happens now is up to you. Our jurisdiction ends once you leave the hotel."

Moore held out his hand.

"I wish you the best of luck," he concluded.

Elliot shook the agent's proffered hand in a daze. Moore walked away, leaving him to stare down at the items he held in his hands. He slowly walked to the front entrance of the hotel and pulled open the doors leading outside.

Then, for the first time in ten years, Elliot Stabler stepped out onto the sidewalk of New York City and began making his way down the street.


	2. Chapter 2

_**December 2019**_

Olivia checked the time as she poured coffee into a thermos. She was getting close to being too late leaving if she wanted to get work on time.

"Hustle up, Noah," she told her son, who was still sitting at the table eating breakfast.

The 6-year old was busy working out the "Brain Teaser" puzzle that was on the back of the Coco Puffs cereal box next to his bowl and didn't answer. He lifted another spoonful of soggy cereal into his mouth slowly, eyes glued to the words at eye level with his face.

She turned back toward him. He hadn't moved.

"Noah," she chided, reaching out and lifting the box up.

Noah started and looked up sheepishly. "I think I almost figured it out, Mom," he insisted with a coy grin.

She returned the smile endearingly, as she always did when he looked at her that way. He was too cute not to give in to. She had a hard time being firm with him because his smile had made her melt from the first moment she had laid eyes on him.

"I'll bet you did," she said. "You can keep working on it. We've got to go, though, and you've still got to brush your teeth. Hurry, hurry!"

****

He jumped down from the chair and ran noisily down the hall. Olivia lifted the bowl and placed it into her sink, gathering up the files she had been working on the night before and sliding them into her bag. 

**  
**  
** **

****

****

His stomach rolled as he hunched next to the curb and heaved into the street. He was shaking, his entire body drenched in sweat, and he felt his skin crawling.

Groaning, Elliot stumbled back onto the sidewalk and sank down against the side of the nearest building, panting miserably.

"Christ." 

A man sitting inside a makeshift "hut" fashioned out of old cardboard peered around it to look at him.

"You look like you got shit out the wrong end of a coyote, my friend," he said in a rough voice.

Elliot didn't reply. 

The man hauled himself feebly to his feet, moving like a geriatric patient even though he was, at most, maybe 60, and made his way over. Elliot scooted over defensively when the man approached, hoping he wasn't going to have to curtail an attack. He felt too dismal to even consider trying at the moment.

The man stopped beside his feet and stood silently. Elliot looked up to see that he was being offered a bottle of liquid from the stranger. 

He looked into the man's tired eyes for a long moment, gauging him, and then warily reached out to take it. The bottle was warm and the liquid looked like it had equal odds of holding either urine or alcohol. 

Elliot swigged it without looking, using it to wash the taste of puke out of his mouth and then turning to spit onto the concrete. He nodded his thanks.

"Tips", as the man who regularly squatted on the corner they sat on referred to himself, had over 20 years of hardened experience with the transient life. The two had never met (in fact, the only reason "Tips" was even awake was because Elliot had come out of thin air to vomit next to his space), but he recognized a "jonesing" when he saw one. 

Aside from the tattered clothes and unmistakable odor of a fellow like himself with limited access to a shower, the trembling hands and wild eyes were easy to recognize. This guy was struggling through withdrawal.

He stooped down. Elliot jumped, his hands flying out defensively, and "Tips" had to duck quick to avoid a whack to the face.

"Easy, man, chill," he said in irritation. "I'm just getting my sandwich."

Elliot looked at him warily, his jaw clenched.

"Tips" pulled open his jacket and pulled out a white napkin. He held it out.

"You want some some? Ham isn't my favorite."

That time, Elliot didn't hesitate. He tore open the napkin and gobbled the half of sandwich so quickly that he nearly didn't chew it. 

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Don't puke it up," "Tips" warned. "I've been saving that for three days. Be a shame if it went to waste."

Elliot turned away from him, huddling deeper into the dirty sweatshirt that did a lousy job of warming him against the chill of early winter. He apparently was finished interacting.

"Tips" narrowed his eyes and reached into the pocket of his camouflage jacket. He discreetly pulled out a small bag full of white crystals showed it to Elliot.

"You need something?" he went on, watching Elliot's eyes zero in on the bag hungrily.

Elliot stared at it silently for a minute. He swallowed and licked his lips.

_Don't. You know how this ends. Don't do it._

Seeing the uncertainty, "Tips" raised an eyebrow. This guy was headed for a bad way and looked like he didn't know how to handle it. 

"Just one," he went on. He plucked a single crystal and held it out. "You obviously need help. You're only going to feel even worse if you go "cold turkey," trust me."

Elliot felt close to vomiting again. He ducked his head, shame coursing through him.

"I...don't have any money," he said finally.

"Tips" regarded him suspiciously. His adrenaline surged and he prepared to either run or block a punch.

"Well..." he said after a minute. "What **do** you have?"

Elliot fumbled in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a crumpled mess of papers. A few fell to the ground. "Tips" picked them up and looked at them. They were photographs, obviously worn down by time.

"Mmm... " he said, grinning, as he gazed at the smiling young blonde woman. There were three other photos of blonde women, too, and one of a brunette. "I wouldn't mind a pretty face to keep me company."

Elliot grabbed them away fast, almost ripping them. 

"Don't touch those," he snapped angrily. "They're mine. "

"Tips" held up his hands. 

"Whatever, man," he said. 

Elliot set his jaw tensely. After a moment's pause, he reluctantly handed over the VISA card and prepaid cell phone, neither of which had been used. "Tips" considered them, then nodded.

"These will do," he said, pocketing the items.

He held out the meth crystal and placed it in Elliot's palm.

"I'm 'Tips,' by the way," he said . "You got a name?"

Elliot hunched deeper into his sweatshirt. 

"No," he replied shortly. 

"Tips" walked back to his cardboard residence and dismissed him. Elliot stared at the crystal in his palm. 

He hated himself.

**  
**  
** **

****

****

"Morning, Cap!"  


Detective Kat Tamin was typing away at her desk when Olivia walked in. She didn't break her stride, fingers flying across the keyboard without having to look as she beamed a bright smile the moment Olivia came through the door.  


Having learned just as she had been dropping her son off at school that not only was he in trouble with his teacher for not turning in his homework assignments from the previous week but that he also had lied to her about not having any in the first place, followed by being stuck in the subway because of a power outage and having to get a cab from the wrong end of town, Olivia was definitely not in a cheerful mood.  


Normally, the newest detective's usual naive, good-nature attitude was (mostly) bearable. But not that day. Olivia held up her hand, a clear "don't" message if Kat had ever seen one, and strode past into her office.  


Sargeant Fin Tutuola rolled back in his chair and craned his head toward the captain's office, trying to gauge her apparent mood. After a minute, he stood up and walked over.  


He knocked on the open door frame and raised an eyebrow. Olivia looked at him for a minute and he could tell she was frazzled, but not stressed. That eased his mind.  


"Rough morning?" he asked, stepping inside fully.  


She looked at him. "Did **you** know that first graders are eligible to receive detention now?" she asked in rhetorical exasperation. She scoffed and shook her head when he shrugged. "Yeah, me neither. I do now. **First graders.** God in Heaven."  


He winced. "Yikes."  


She inhaled, visibly getting herself together.  


"How did the Bursten interrogation go?" she went on. Fin and Rollins had been trying to get information from a suspect for most of the previous day and he had obviously given them a hard time, because they had still been at it when she'd left for the day. "Did he finally cave?"  


Fin shook his head.  


"I told Rollins to take a few hours in the crib at around 5 am," he told her. "We'll have to have another go at him. I'm hoping a night in the 'tank' has loosened his tongue."  


Olivia saw that it had been four hours since then. "Go wake her up," she ordered. "Get started."  


He nodded and left the office. Olivia picked up the desk phone and began listening to the messages that had been left before she'd arrived.

**  
**  
** **

****

****

Elliot lay on his back in the cold grass on the back edge of the church property of Saint Athanasius Roman Catholic Church and stared up at the trees. He felt euphoric and fuzzily warm, lazily watching the dewy drops on the leaves sparkle in the sun.  


He liked resting near churches whenever he could. They usually had large lots that were easy to disappear into and the chances of parishioners and clergy coming out behind the building were small.  


Plus, they made him feel....like he could drop his guard, if only for a small window of time, even though he never dared to truly do it fully. He came when he was on the brink of collapse from not staying still long enough to actually sleep. He never slept intentionally, choosing instead to close his eyes when he reached the churches and let it overtake him for a little while.  


He figured, if nothing else, maybe God would keep trouble away from him a little while. Not that he deserved it.  


A lazy smile drifted over his face as he rode the high from the crystal that he had finally given into after a few hours of trying to resist.

**  
**  
** **

****

****

Detective Rollins knocked on the glass pane of the office door as Olivia was taking a bite of her lunch. She waved her in and swallowed.

"I just got a call from Bellevue," she said. "Teenage girl came in to the ER this morning. They think she was raped. Take Kat and go interview her."

Amanda nodded.

**  
****  
**

****

****

It was easy in the daytime to keep to himself. He had found that as long as he didn't try to get too close to people camped out in tarp tents or boxes as he walked the streets, he could usually take up a space without anyone really bothering him.

Most of the homeless seemed to find him agreeable, if not a little strange, because even though he never spoke, he also never caused trouble. They didn't really know what to make of him. He didn't panhandle, didn't have any track marks, and rarely was seen accepting food from anyone who didn't offer it to him first. Usually, he would just pick a place to sit and stare at the photographs that he had in his pocket.

He couldn't look at them for long, especially the ones of his daughters, and the one of Olivia usually made his chest hurt with loneliness and despair.

Eventually, he would then get up and walk away, disappearing down the street. Sometimes he returned to one spot, sometimes he found another.

Nighttime, though...well, nighttime was the most difficult part.

He was terrified of being out in the open and not able to see. He always tried his hardest to get somewhere underground, like under a bridge or in a subway tunnel, where he could wait out the night without being an obvious mark.He didn't always make it.

One time, he crouched until sunrise between the back of an SUV and a concrete wall in an overnight parking garage. He was too afraid to attempt crossing the wide expanse of the garage to get to the exit in the dark, not knowing if anyone would see him. Another time, he wedged behind a dumpster in a dead-end alley, keeping his eyes glued to the path leading out to make sure no one snuck up on him.

He was a complete wreck. His nerves were shot, he was paranoid of everyone, and he couldn't make it through the withdrawal even though he would rather die trying.

He realized he wasn't going to make it much longer the day that he wandered, craving sleep and bone-weary exhausted, close to the Brooklyn bridge and wondered if he'd ever get the guts to jump.


	3. Chapter 3

Amanda walked up to the nurse behind the desk and held out her badge.

"SVU," she identified herself. "Someone called about a rape."

The nurse nodded. "Exam room seven," she replied, pointing. "The SANE is with her."

Kat followed Amanda down the hall. The senior detective knocked on the door and it was opened by a woman wearing blue scrubs. She nodded at them as she let them in.

"I'm Detective Rollins," Amanda said. She gestured at Kat. "This is Detective Tamin. We're from the Special Victims Unit."

Kat looked over at the girl sitting on the exam table wearing a paper gown. She didn't look older than maybe 11. She was huddled into herself, pulling at the gown without seeming aware of it. 

The detective saw deep bruises that looked like ligature marks both on her wrists and on the ankles of her bare feet hanging off of the side of the table.

"Hi," Kat said. She smiled but didn't try to approach. "My name is Kat. What's yours?"

The girl didn't reply. She looked away. 

"We'd like to talk to you," Kat went on. "Is that ok?"

After a minute, the girl shrugged.

While Kat was trying to interact with the girl, the sexual assault nurse examiner nodded for Rollins to step closer. 

"She came in off the street around 3 am this morning," the woman said. "She wasn't wearing any pants, underwear, or shoes."

The nurse sounded particularly upset by that, since it was frigid outside. 

"They thought she might have been homeless," she went on, "But then they saw the marks on her wrists and face, so they called me. She hasn't told anyone her name and won't let anyone examine her. **Something** obviously happened to her, but until she talks or I can do an exam, I can't guess as to what."

Amanda looked over at the distressed girl. She had a busted lip and bruises around her eyes. Her hair was matted and dirty and she kept scratching frenzily at her forearms as if her skin was crawling.

"If you haven't done an exam and she hasn't said anything," she said, "How do you know she was raped?" 

"I don't," the nurse said matter-of-factly. She wasn't even ashamed of her next words. "But she needs help. She's practically a baby. I figured a rape victim would get you guys out here quicker than a street kid."

Rollins couldn't contain the look of disgust she leveled at the nurse.

Detective Tamin stood a short distance from the girl, trying not to invade her space. She considered her next words carefully.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, watching the girl's eyes suddenly light up. "Thirsty?"

The girl nodded eagerly. 

"How about we talk while Detective Rollins gets you something to eat?" Kat went on. "Anything you want, she'll get."

"Anything?"

For the first time in hours, the girl finally spoke. She looked at Kat with an expression of suspicion mixed with hope.

Kat exchanged a quick look with Amanda, nodding quickly. 

"Anything," she said with a smile. " What do think?"

The girl didn't return the smile. But she did nod.

**  
** **  
**

********

NYPD Sergeant Issac Jensen of the 61st Precinct pulled his squad car up behind the one already in front of the Good Shepherd Catholic Church and stepped out. He had been right down the street finishing his dinner break that evening when he had heard the call reporting a trespasser, so he'd headed there to meet the responding officers. 

Officers Kevin McLaughlin and Cole Lucas were standing at the edge of the back parking lot, shining powerful flashlights into the darkness.

"Hey, Sarge," Officer Lucas greeted him when Sergeant Jensen joined them. "Concerned citizen says she saw a guy back here a few minutes ago and was worried he was going to break into the church."

Sergeant Jensen looked at him witheringly.

"'Concerned citizen'?" he mocked, rolling his eyes. "Skip the bullshit. We all know it was old '509 Bag' calling to give her daily complaint. Christ. Can't someone send her to a nursing home already?"

He was referring to the elderly woman who lived in apartment 509 of the building across from the church. She called 911 every day without fail, demanding that police check on anything that she found offensive, from the kids racing scooters down the alley to the yapping chihuahua three floors below her.

Officers were legally obligated to respond to each call, even if that meant only driving by without stopping. Which they always did because there was nothing criminal about pissing off a cranky old lady.

Frankly, Sergeant Jensen was surprised they were even out of their cars. But then he remembered how the Commissioner of Internal Affairs had been up their captain's ass about making sure "proper protocol" was being enforced by everyone and the captain had threatened suspension of anyone caught trying to skate the requirements.

"Alright, let's get this over with," he said in annoyance, realizing there was no way around it. "Make it quick. I'm freezing my balls off standing here."

The sergeant took out his own flashlight and the three of them skirted the outer perimeter of the property.

"Sarge," Officer McLaughlin called from the far end.

He waved the other two over as he shined his flashlight on the form of a man sleeping in the dirt. His clothes were filthy, practically blending in to the dead leaves and sticks on the ground, but his head and hands were tucked almost expertly into a position that kept them completely clean. There wasn't a smudge on his face. Officer McLaughlin had never seen a homeless person do that before.

"Hey, guy," he said firmly, bending to shake his shoulder. "Get up. This is private property."

The man jumped violently and a harsh gasp exploded out of him like he had been jolted from a bad dream.

McLaughlin's partner and the sergeant stepped up and he watched Sergeant Jensen shine his light directly into the man's face.

He knew it was on purpose. It was well known that the sergeant wasn't a fan of the homeless. McLaughlin privately thought that the sergeant bordered on being abusive to them, just because he could get away with it.

Proving his point, Sergeant Jensen pulled back his foot and then slammed his boot hard against the man's side. He stooped down almost right on top of the man, still shining the light in his face.  
McLaughlin winced.

The man gave a panicked cry and then kicked the sergeant's feet out from under him.

**  
** **  
**

Elliot was almost startled into a heart attack when he was jolted abruptly into consciousness by someone blinding him with a light and then kicking him, hard. 

****

****

********

When he saw someone standing over him, his instincts flared with terror and he immediately made a move to get the threat away from him. Then he jumped to his feet and took off running in a panic. 

Unfortunately, he was still seeing spots from the white light being shone at his eyes and could hardly tell where he was going. 

He heard someone yelling "FREEZE!" at him a split second before he was tackled from behind and shoved violently to the ground. He struggled frantically, kicking and clawing until someone pressed bodily against his back and immobilized him.

He realized they were police officers when he heard the crackling voice of a dispatch radio and his heart hammered uncontrollably when they trapped his hands, preparing to cuff him.

"No, please!" he screamed desperately, squirming. "Don't use cuffs! I'll come with you, I'll come...please don't!"

"Hey, Sarge."

Officer McLaughlin was shining his light down at Elliot's wrists. Healing ligature marks stood out starkly on them.

"What the hell is this?" he asked uncertainly.

The sergeant was pissed as hell over being knocked off his feet, by a vagrant no less, and in no mood for sympathy.

"The fuck would I know?" he replied rudely.

Sergeant Jensen snapped the handcuffs on tightly and hauled Elliot to his feet, shoving him toward the other officers harder than strictly necessary.

"Maybe he's one of those S & M bondage freaks," he said snidely "Who cares? He just assaulted an officer. Put him in the car."

Officer McLaughlin led him toward the patrol car with a light grip, not having it in him distress Elliot further. He was shaking as he was being marched forward.

"Please. Please." His voice sounded choked up, like he was so scared he could barely speak. "Take the cuffs off. You have to take the cuffs off. I won't resist, I swear to God. Please take the cuffs off!"

McLaughlin bit his lip. He opened the back door of the cruiser, pushed Elliot in gently, and closed the car back up.

**  
** **  
**

****_**October 2019**_** **

Elliot stepped hesitantly onto the New York City Transit Authority public bus and handed the driver the bus pass he had been given.Elliot stepped hesitantly onto the New York City Transit Authority public bus and handed the driver the bus pass he had been given.

He had no idea how long he had been walking, but his reserve was quickly fading. The initial shock of being around other people had kept him going for awhile before exhaustion and despair had finally kicked in.

He had stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk, fumbled for the cell phone that the FBI agent gave him, and then almost burst into tears when he realized he didn't remember anyone's phone number.

The reflex that had lived inside of him for over 30 years came up then and he headed immediately to the nearest bus stop without thinking. He didn't even have to consciously remember the address. He just....knew it, even after all this time.

Elliot wanted to go home. Everything would be alright when he got back home to her. Her embrace was what he needed, right that very moment.

He sat nervously as the bus traveled , obsessively watching the people near him and changing seats if anyone came too close. By the time he arrived to his stop in Glenoaks, Queens, he was wound tighter than a spring and practically ran off of the bus.

He walked until he reached 72-12 Castleside Street and stood at the end of the driveway, swallowing hard as he stared at the house.

Then he made his way up, climbed the porch steps, and knocked on the door.

His pulse raced as he waited. The door opened and revealed a boy, almost pre-pubescent, with a shock of blond curls.

A lump climbed into Elliot's throat at the remnants of the baby face he could still recognize, rendering him speechless, and he could only stare in shock at the son he hadn't seen in almost 8 years.

"Who is it, Eli?"

Kathy appeared behind him, holding a tiny baby in her arms. Elliot switched his gaze to her. Tears gathered in his eyes as he looked at her and a relieved smile came over his face for the first time in years.

"Hi, Kath," he breathed.

His wife turned so white that she appeared translucent. She stared at him like he was a spector.  
Her hands reflexively clenched the small baby tighter. Swallowing hard, she reached out and gripped her son by the shoulder.

"Eli," she said evenly, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She pulled him slightly back to look at her and carefully placed the baby in his arms. He cradled the infant easily, as if used to it. "Go back inside and put Eliza in her bassinet."

Elliot's breath stuttered, hearing the name and realizing who the baby was.

_Eliza. _  
__

Eli disappeared as Kathy stepped out onto the porch and turned to pull the door closed after her.  
When she faced him again, the rage on her face was shocking.

"Elliot," she ground out. This time her voice did shake. "I don't care what you want. I don't care why you're here."

Her hands had clenched into shaking fists. She looked like she was struggling not to explode.

"Leave," she said. "Leave, right now, before I call the police."

Elliot gaped at her, horrified confusion on his face. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He shook his head desperately.

"Please," he said, his voice starting to tremble. "Kathy, please, just listen-"

**"DON'T SAY MY NAME!"**

She lost control, surprising even herself. She screamed at him and then both hands were out, pushing against his chest.

"I don't want to hear **anything** you have to say!" she cried hysterically, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I don't want to see your face ever again!"

He gulped in breaths, shaking as he held in sobs while she stood in front of him and pushed him physically away. He couldn't the tears from escaping.

"I wish **you** were dead!" she continued crazily. She had given up any semblance of self-control by then. " **You** deserve to be dead, **NOT THEM!** "

The door opened a crack from inside and she realized her son was peering out. She wiped her hand over her face clumsily.

The fury in her voice made her words was cold and unfeeling. She spoke as if she had no soul left.  
He had never in his life heard her sound that way.

"Elliot-" she said evenly.

She looked straight into his eyes and then successfully killed the little bit of hope he had left in the world.

"You no longer exist to me," she concluded. Her face was twisted with pure hatred toward the man she had once loved and cherished. "Don't come back here again. Ever."

She went inside, locked the door, and left him heartbroken on the porch

**  
** **  
**

****_**December 2019**_** **

****

Kat led the girl into the squad room and guided her to the cozy interview room they reserved for their youngest visitors. Amanda went into Olivia's office.

Her captain looked at her in surprise at seeing the victim, as she expected since she hadn't told Olivia that they were the girl back with them. Amanda shook her head, clearly disturbed.

"Sorry, Cap," she said. "I didn't want to turn her over to Child Services at the hospital. We don't even know her name yet. She had just started opening up to us when they came in and I didn't want to traumatize her further. She hasn't told us what happened and hasn't let anyone examine her."

"What is your gut telling you?" Olivia asked.

The detective sighed morosely.

"Abuse," she said. "She has bruises like she's been hit repeatedly. She also has marks on her wrists and ankles that look like she may have been forcibly restrained."

She fell silent. Olivia looked at her in concern. It looked like the detective was trying not to cry.  
"Amanda?" she pressed gently.

Rollins exhaled shakily as she looked at her boss.

"She's so little," she said tearfully. "The hospital staff said she walked in at 3 am barefoot and wearing just a shirt, completely naked from the waist down."

She couldn't get the haunting image of it that she had conjured out of her mind.

"Barefoot and **naked** , Olivia," she said in disbelief. "It was 17 degrees at 3 am this morning and that little girl was walking the streets of New York alone and naked. How could anyone do that?"

Olivia knew that Amanda was thinking about her own daughters. She didn't blame her.

"It's horrible," she agreed. "Hopefully, we can get her tell us what happened." She looked at the detective sympathetically. "Focus on that, Amanda. We can help her now even if no one did before."

Rollins nodded quickly.

Olivia stood up and gathered her things. She crossed over and laid a hand on the detective's shoulder. 

"Try not to get too wrapped up in 'what-if's' just yet," she advised. "Let's just find out what happened first."

They left the office together, Amanda heading to the interview room and Olivia going to pick up Noah. 

"Call me if anything urgent comes up," Olivia said as she walked out.

Amanda gave her a thumbs up of acknowledgement. "Will do," she said, before joining Kat and the girl.

**  
****  
**

The entire trip to the precinct, Elliot sat in the back pleading with them to take off the handcuffs. McLaughlin had never seen a person so visibly upset about being cuffed before- detained, sure, but just cuffed, no way- in the 2 years he had been an officer. 

********

His partner had said the guy was probably high out of his mind and he had to agree. Whatever he was on, it must have been a bad batch to make him so out of his head with panic. 

When they took him into the holding cell, he begged again to have the cuffs removed and Officer McLaughlin decided he would show a teeny bit of mercy to this obviously pitiful man. He unlocked the cuffs and then closed the cell.

Elliot scratched at his arms restlessly, lightheaded and dizzy from not having had anything to eat in almost 4 days and trying to fight the withdrawal again.

"Wait," he burst out as the officers began walking away. He wrapped his hands around the bars and looked at them desperately. "Please. Please help me."

He began hyperventilating anxiously, words tumbling out faster than he could think about them. He sounded almost spastic.

"They kidnapped me," he babbled tearfully. "They killed my daughters." He began sobbing, thinking about it. "I used to be a cop. Please, help me. I used to be a cop."

From behind him, Officer McLaughlin suddenly heard Sergeant Jensen howl with laughter. He looked back and saw the sergeant with his head thrown back, guffawing so hard that his body shook.

"Fuck **me**!" the sergeant gasped out.

He had to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes before he could speak. He looked at Officers McLaughlin and Lucas, his face almost red from laughing.

"Now **that**...that is the best thing I've heard in 10 years on the force!" he cackled. "You're an awfully long way from the academy, there, **Officer**!"

"He's out out of his head," he said. "Probably will be screaming all night that he was abducted by aliens. Christ." He stopped with a hand on his office door. "Just make sure to double-check that he can't hurt himself before you guys head back out."

"You got it, Sarge," Officer Lucas called as the sergeant disappeared into his office. He looked at the bum inside the cell with obvious disgust and then addressed his partner. "I gotta go to the head. Pat him down. I'll meet you at the car. "

Officer McLaughlin watched his partner go in the direction of the men's room and then turned to look inside the cell again.

Elliot was crumpled despondantly on the cold stone bench inside, feeling so hopeless that he couldn't even stay on his feet. He trembled and cried pathetically, unable to stop because of the havoc the withdrawal was unleashing on him.

"It's the truth," he said hoarsely.

He didn't even try to strengthen his voice, knowing miserably that they didn't believe him. It made him feel so hopeless that he wanted to die.

“Call my partner,” he went on desperately. “Call my captain. Olivia Benson...Don Cragen. Please call them.”

His expression was so haunted that Officer McLaughlin couldn't bear it anymore. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, shaking his head. " I...I'm sorry. "


	4. Chapter 4

_**May 2011 __**_ __

Captain Cragen ordered every person in the bullpen to stay put as the paramedics raced from the room with Sister Peg and Jenna Fox on stretchers. 

Then he shifted his gaze to the two partners near the far end of the room and walked carefully toward them. 

Elliot had sunk down against his desk, his gun clenched in his hand, looking so pale that Cragen genuinely feared he was going to vomit. Olivia was crouched next to him, so close that she was practically squishing him. Her face was stricken.

He looked up at the captain when he felt his approach. His eyes were wide and he started breathing fast and hard.

Olivia's face crinkled in panic. She jerked her eyes toward Captain Cragen, the despair in her eyes easy to see, and then looked back at her partner. She kept flexing her fingers, like she wanted to touch Elliot but was afraid to.

Cragen immediately prioritized the most important thing in his opinion at the moment. He kept his voice calm and his gaze steady.

"Olivia," he commanded gently. "Move back, if you will, please. Give him some room.

She scooted away as if she hadn't realized how close she was. Cragen kept his gaze fixed on Elliot. 

In a rare move, the captain got down and crouched next to him, too. He closed his hand over Elliot's with a feather-light touch and steadily gripped the detective's gun. 

"Give that to me, Elliot," he said evenly, taking it from him.

Elliot didn't try to resist. Cragen took his other hand and placed it carefully around the younger man's neck. He was starting to almost shake, nearly hyperventilating.

"Take it easy," Cragen said kindly. "Just breathe. Just breathe."

Olivia watched, almost crying. She had never, ever seen her partner so upset and it scared the hell out of her.

The captain gently put his hands underneath Elliot's elbows and urged him to his feet. Elliot rose with him as if he couldn't move without being directed. He drew an arm around the detective's shoulders and began guiding him across the room.

"Come into my office," Cragen said. "Come on."

They went inside the room and the captain closed the door. Then he also shut the blinds.

Olivia swallowed thickly and shared a shocked look with Fin. The other detective shook his head slightly, obviously feeling the same way she did.

****  
  
_**December 2019** _

"Did you get enough to eat?" Amanda asked. 

The girl nodded. She seemed more animated being that around the cheery atmosphere of the room. She seemed particularly interested in the basket of stuffed animals near the table, glancing at them repeatedly.

Kat nodded at her encouragingly.

"You want one of these?" she asked. She pulled the basket closer. "Here...you can have whatever you want."

The smile that came over the girl's face both warmed and hurt Amanda's insides. She reached in and pulled out a big grey elephant.

"So," Amanda said, smiling and trying to put her at ease. "Can you tell me your name now?"

The girl was brushing her hands over the elephant's ears.

"Melissa," she said.

Encouraged, Amanda nodded quickly. "Melissa what?"

Kat watched the exchange with sharp eyes.

"Miller," Melissa replied.

The detectives shared a glance over her head and Amanda nodded at Kat.

"How old are you, Melissa?" Kat asked.

"Ten," she said.

"Do you know your address?" Amanda asked. Melissa shook her head. "How did you get to the hospital?"

The girl played with the stuffed elephant's trunk. She was silent a minute before answering.

"I ran away," she eventually said.

Kat furrowed her brow. "Ran away?" she asked. "From who?"

Melissa's hands stilled on the elephant. Her battered eyes traveled up to look at the detectives sitting across from her.

"From the mean men."

_**April 2012**_

Elliot tugged against the zip ties that trapped his hands together and bound them to the iron bed rail. His bare feet were similarly lashed together at the ankles.

He squirmed on top of the stripped mattress, breathing heavily through the tape wrapped around his mouth.

Scattered around the room with him, barely illuminated by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, six boys and seven girls also sat on bare beds. Unlike him, they could move somewhat and they weren't gagged.

Each child was manacled by their wrists and ankles, but not tethered to anything. They couldn't move very well, but were able to leave the mattress and hobble a few feet to a bucket that served as a toilet unassisted.

They sat and stared at him as he thrashed and struggled, his muffled heaves for breath as loud as explosions in the silence. They looked terrified.

The squeal of a door opening echoed suddenly. Heavy footsteps clomped down.

The children cowered nervously as four Hispanic men entered the room and began looking around. Elliot swallowed chokingly, still yanking at the ties and grunting. They paid him no attention.

One of them pointed to the bed of a Black boy.

"That one," he said.

Another man stepped close and the boy shrank back. The man yanked him up roughly and then punched him in the face, hard enough that they could hear the crack of his teeth breaking. The boy squealed and screeched as three of the men manhandled him, dripping blood, and dragged him up the stairs.

Elliot yelled out nonsensically in horror and outrage at the treatment of the child, the tape making it impossible to speak. He glared murderously as the remaining man approached him.

He smiled coldly at Elliot's helpless state.

"You haven't seen anything yet, Detective," he said. "Just wait...things are about to get **real** in here."

He bent and stared into the face of their newest captive. His face twisted into a hideous, terrible look.

"You made a big mistake coming here, Elliot Stabler," he said menacingly. "You won't live long enough to regret it. I can guarantee you that."

He narrowed his eyes. Elliot breathed noisely in frustration and anxiety as the man went back up the stairs and slammed the door shut. He moved around even more and pulled on the plastic ties hard enough to break skin, to no avail.

He eventually had to stop, a headache pounding at his temples from the exertion and adrenaline. He gazed desolately at the children from behind sealed lips and tried to stop panic from overcoming him.

He had no idea how the Hernandez brothers had found out who he really was, but he held onto hope that everything would be ok. The U.S. Marshals had no doubt already figured out something was wrong and would be alerting Captain Cragen that he had missed his check-in.

They would probably be here before the end of the hour. Rescue would arrive soon, for everyone, but especially for the children who were their targets. Everything was going to be fine as long as he kept his head.

He kept telling himself that as he lay trapped in the basement of Raul Hernandez' walk up townhouse. And it almost worked-

-Right up until the moment that another of the brothers, Mario Hernadez, had come downstairs again, peeled the tape partway from his mouth, and forced him to swallow the yellow capsule of PCP at gunpoint.

Once that happened, he knew he was in for more trouble than he had ever experienced before.

**  
**  
_**December 2019**_****

Even though it was dark and dismal in the holding cell alone, at least it was inside an actual building. After three months of barely surviving out on the streets, it was definitely an improvement over how Elliot had previously been spending his nights.

He was so upset and spent from bursting out at the officers that when he slouched stiffly against the bars, he ended up dropping off to sleep instantly. Amazingly, no one bothered him again and he actually managed to rest undisturbed for an entire night. It had been years since the last time he had done that.

He was jarred awake in early morning by Officer McLaughlin, coming in to end his shift. He sat up slowly and rubbed his face.

The officer came up to the bars and stared at him evenly. Elliot looked hesitantly back.

After a moment, the young officer spoke.

"My sergeant would like for me to stick you with a trespassing charge, so that he has an excuse to keep you in Central Booking," he said quietly. "He thinks keeping the homeless locked up as long as possible is good for society."

He paused.

"But...my sargeant isn't here."

McLaughlin stared at Elliot meaningfully. Then he produced a set of keys and unlocked the cell, holding the door open, making it clear what his own intentions were.

Elliot looked at him warily, but immediately got to his feet.

"Make sure you leave through the stairwell door," McLaughlin said. "Less chance that someone will bother you."

He seemed to be considering his next words.

"For what it's worth?" he finally said. "We're not **all** like my sergeant."

Elliot nodded gratefully at the young officer. He didn't know how to respond and McLaughlin didn't seem inclined to wait around for him to.

**  
**  
**_October 2011_** ****

The night of the shooting at the precinct stuck out in Kathy's mind for so many reasons, but particularly because of how death had been happening while she was in the middle talking to her oldest daughter about the joy of new life.

Maureen's best friend had just given birth to a girl and she had come from visiting the baby at the hospital. She had been so excited, telling Kathy that she couldn't wait to start her own family one day.

She hoped to have a daughter, Maureen had said, so that she could name her Eliza Bernadette, after both of her grandmothers.

The call from Don Cragen had come after her daughter had left, at around 9 p.m. He hadn't elaborated other than saying that though Elliot wasn't hurt, she still needed to come quickly to the E.R.

She had gotten there as fast as possible, her mind racing with questions and apprehension, and what she'd encountered there took her breath away.

Captain Cragen was in a curtained off section of the E.R. with Elliot, who was sitting in a bed still wearing his work clothes. The dress shirt and pants had blood all over them.

Elliot looked shaky and out of sorts. She went to him at once, taking his hands, and asked him gently what had happened.

He looked at her, tears wobbling in his eyes, and then puked. He broke down into sobs so hard that Kathy had to hold him upright as she embraced him to keep him from collapsing off of the edge of the bed.

The E.R. had released him an hour later, giving her discharge papers indicating he had been treated for "acute traumatic stress" and a prescription for Ativan and Valium. Captain Cragen wouldn't tell her had happened, saying that it would be up to Elliot. He painfully suggested that she not leave Elliot alone that night and told her he would call them first thing the next morning.

Then, in a hushed tone that indicated he didn't want Elliot to overhear, the captain pleaded with her to move any firearms that they might have in their home to a place where Elliot wouldn't be able to find them.

She called her mother on the drive home and asked her to come take Eli for the night. Then she sat up beside Elliot until dawn, letting him get drunk and holding him as he sobbed brokenly. He struggled to tell her what had happened and just kept saying in anguish that he had murdered somebody's baby.

Then, for the first time in the almost four decades that Kathy had known him, he had willingly swallowed an Ativan and laid in her arms while it took him into sleep.

That first night had been horrible. But they paled in comparison to what happened next.

When the captain had arrived the next morning to check on him, he had to tell Elliot that internal affairs was going to be launching an investigation that could have the potential to become a murder charge. He had assured her husband that he was going to be fighting in his corner, but that unfortunately, Elliot was going to need to submit to having every facet of his life examined to the point of intrusion.

She'd had to watch painfully while her proud, earnest husband had to allow investigators into their home, have his personal belongings touched and examined for signs that could point to premeditation on his part, and be subjected to interviews and accusations using his history on the force against him. He was forced to take leave from work while the investigation was going on, and to her knowledge, didn't speak to any of his coworkers at all during that time, not even Olivia.

He became despondant. He told her that he didn't think he could ever walk back into the Special Victims Unit again.

He had worried incessantly about losing his pension and not being able to take care of her and their kids. She had tried to reassure him, tell him that the responsibility of providing for them was not all on his shoulders, but he didn't seem convinced. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened when his own father had gone up against the top brass back when he was a kid and the turmoil that had resulted.

And then, after all of that upheaval, Internal Affairs had hardly spared him a ten-second phone message five weeks later, letting him know that they would not be pursuing criminal prosecution against him and that he was officially cleared to return to duty. He had called Captain Cragen right afterward and told him that instead of coming back, he would be putting in retirement papers.

After that, something irreplaceable had gone out of him. It was like he didn't know what his purpose was anymore once he decided to hang up his badge.

He barely spoke, wasn't interested in eating very often, and spent all of his time in the backyard shed, which he doubled into workshop and home gym. He hardly ever slept and ran marathon-length sprints around the neighborhood for hours every single night, rain or shine. During the day, he was either working out with music blaring or fixing anything he could get his hands on using hammers and saws.

He wasn't handling things well. He had started retreating back into his old habit of walling off his emotions and shutting her out and it scared her. She loved him so much and it killed her to see how much he was obviously hurting, but she had no idea what to do. He seemed to have no one to turn to other than her and he refused to let himself do that.

And then, one day about 6 months into his retirement, she looked out the kitchen window as she was washing up after breakfast and saw Don Cragen and another man with a badge approaching Elliot as he worked on the lawn mower in the back yard.

**  
** **  
**

Elliot wasn't sure how exactly he had managed to lift the riding mower and flip it, because that son of a bitch seemed practically as heavy as a small car, or why he had even thought it would be a good idea. It clearly wasn't, because then he was left to try and it get back over somehow without cutting the hell out of his hands in the process. 

Movement flashed in his vision. When he turned his head, he saw Captain Cragen walking across the yard toward him. Another man Elliot had never seen accompanied him.

"Good morning," Cragen said. "How are you doing, Elliot?"

Elliot looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He had a feeling he knew why the captain was there.

Olivia had been calling him at least once a week since the shooting and he never returned her calls. He wasn't ready yet. He had to give her points for her tenacity though, sending the captain after him like this. She knew he would never have the guts to send their boss packing.

"I'm not coming back, Captain, " he warned, before his captain even started.

Cragen nodded. "I know," he said quickly. " That's not why I'm here."

He looked...hesitant, like he was weighing the implications of what he was about to say. It caused a spark of apprehension to ripple through Elliot. That couldn't be good.

Cragen gestured at the man with him. "Elliot, this is Deputy U.S. Marshal Brent Woodhouse, " he said.

The marshal held out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Detective Stabler."

Elliot sized him up warily but reluctantly shook with him.

"I was wondering if the captain and I could talk to you. I'm in need of some help and he strongly recommended that I ask you."

Elliot crinkled his brow in confusion.

"Like for what, a consult?" he asked.

The marshal shook his head.

"Not exactly," he said. " More like....a job offer."

**  
** **  
**

********

****_**December 2019**_ ****

****One of the most troubling effects of having been force-fed drugs for such a long time was what it had done to his memory. It was constantly frustrating him because he couldn't seem to make it better.** **

********  
When he had first been rescued, he hadn't been able to tell F.B.I. agents who he was because he couldn't remember his own name. He could look at the photographs that he kept in his pockets and immediately know his daughters and Olivia, but couldn't remember phone numbers to call anyone.

He couldn't remember where Olivia's apartment was, but could recall the way to get to the 16th Precinct from anywhere in New York. When he emerged from the police station in Brooklyn, he went straight there without giving himself time to reconsider the idea and chicken out.

But when he arrived, he could only stand in front of the doors outside. He couldn't work up the courage to go in.

Someone walked past him and pulled open the doors to enter. He gaped and the word came out of his mouth instinctively.

"Fin?"

Sargeant Fin Tutuola looked over suspiciously at him. He could see the immediate self-defensive reach toward the gun that Fin wore and he realized his former colleague didn't recognize who he was.

"No, it's Elliot," he said quickly, holding out his hands. " Fin, it's me, Elliot. "

The other man gawked at him for a full minute. It was like he had just said that he was Christ Himself.

**"Stabler?"** Fin finally said, sounding shocked.

He nodded frantically. The other man looked like he couldn't believe his eyes.

Jesus," he said, sounding equally stunned and a bit disgusted.

Elliot couldn't blame him. He knew what he looked (and smelled)like these days and it was definitely not pleasing. He had taken a razor, bar of soap and small pack of wet wipes with him from hotel when he had left, but after two months, most of it was gone or had been traded for food when he had no other choice. All that was left was a few wipes and he had to use them sparingly in order for them to last.

He was still wearing the same clothes the F.B.I. had given him, too. The sweatshirt and jeans were not at all close to the color they originally been after months of street living, but he had remained fanatical about keeping his shoes dry and taken care of. Having no shoes definitely would add problems he didn't need.

He swallowed, absently scratching at his itching arms. The nausea was getting bad again and it caused a headache behind his eyes that felt like torture.

"Is...is Olivia in there?" he asked. He spoke in a rush like he couldn't control himself. "Can you get Olivia? I need to see her. I just need to talk to her, is she in there? "

Fin gazed at him in disbelief as he heard how unsteady the man was, took in his appearance, and came to a shocking conclusion. He still couldn't comprehend that this was the coworker he had worked beside ten years ago.

"Jesus, Elliot," he said again. He shook his head. " Are you-" He paused, hoping he was wrong, and kept coming up with the same evidence in front of him. "Are you **high**?"  
The contempt in his voice and expression were obvious. Elliot started shaking, breathing tearfully through a vicious bout of queasiness.

"I'm not," he said, his agitated voice and demeanor contradicting his words. "I'm not, I'm not, I just....please, tell Olivia to come down here, Fin... **please**!"

Fin tipped his head slightly and then narrowed his eyes. He couldn't keep the distaste from being his face as he studied the man in front of him who he didn't know at all anymore.

Elliot startled when he strode up close to him without a warning.

"Listen to me," Fin said, his voice hard. "I don't know what kind of shit you're into these days, but Olivia Benson does not need you bringing it into her life now. Not after the last ten years you put her through."

He was almost glaring, he was so angry.

"She's been through more hell since you've been gone than anyone even knows about...and what she **should** have had was support from the person who watched her back all that time," he continued harshly. "I can't even believe that you have the nerve to show up here right now....and like **this**. "

Elliot couldn't keep the tears from coming into his eyes. He couldn't find his voice. He wanted to say something, anything...just make Fin understand. But he didn't know how.

Fin shook his head.

"No," he said. "No, Elliot...I'm not going to tell her to come down here. She has everything going for her now. She was promoted to Captain and she has a son. She finally got the life she deserves and there is no way in hell that I am going to tell her to come have a chat with the partner who left her to deal with it alone and didn't think twice about it."

He walked away from Elliot, turning his head as he prepared to go inside.

"You want to talk to her, Elliot," he said. "You do it yourself. I'm not going to."

Fin disappeared inside. Elliot almost doubled over with the sudden anguish that overtook him and had to blindly turn the corner so that the building would support his weight.

He slid down to the ground, put his face in his hands, and sobbed more brokenly than he had in years. He had nowhere else to turn now and he didn't think he had anymore strength left in him to keep reaching for help.

Maybe...maybe this was the confirmation he needed that enough was enough and he should just end it.

After all, what could he possibly have to fear now?

He was going to Hell anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

_**August 2012** _

When they had said they intended to keep him alive long enough to regret infiltrating their operation, they hadn't been kidding.

Elliot was kept tied up in that basement with the children for the next four months. Jorge Hernandez came down three times a day to empty the buckets that the children used and to slide a bowl underneath of him.

It was humiliating and disgusting and he hated doing it, but he had no choice. They had already proven that if he refused it, they would let him sit in his own waste.

Jorge also used each time he came as an opportunity to give Elliot another substance that would ensure he was kept pliable and wouldn't cause them any trouble.

PCP, Methamphetamines, Cocaine, even Ecstasy...nothing seemed too difficult for any of them to obtain from somewhere. Powder and pills became as routine as eliminating and cold tv dinners shared with the children for him. 

They kept him gagged in between "doses" until they were sure of what kind of reaction he would have to whatever he was given. Extreme terror-induced paranoia was common in the beginning and he spent two entire weeks with his mouth continuously taped shut because he couldn't stop screaming, only having it removed it once a day for ten minutes to give him bits of food and water. 

They threatened the children with beatings if any of them thought about trying to hobble close to him or remove his gag. None of them dared even move from their beds, so it wasn't necessary. And so it began, the horrifying, torturous ritual of laying half-crazed and immobilized while all around him, depraved, vicious men took turns brutalizing, prostituting, and abusing the children. Most of the time, the kids were taken out of the basement.

But not always.

Those times were the worst. He could still hear and understand their cries and screams through the haze of semi-consciousness but could do nothing to help. That seemed to be the point of pride for the Hernandez brothers, because as time went on, they got more brazen solely for his benefit.

The first time they held a little girl down and raped her on the bed he was on, they deliberately kept him sober while they did it. He had to watch, gagged but fully aware, as they laid her in a position perpendicular to him so that all she could see while they assaulted her was his face.

That was also the first time he broke down into sobs during the whole ordeal. But if wouldn't be the last.

In the rare moments when the drugs wore off before they gave him more, Elliot wondered why no one was coming to help. Surely they knew where he was. They **had** to. Why was nobody coming?

_****_

He received his answer the very next day, but he didn't have all of his faculties available to realize it at that point. They drugged him more heavily than usual and then began barking at the children to get up. They were quickly herded up the stairs, momentarily leaving him alone. 

_****_

A few moments later, two of the men came back. They made sure the tape was secure over his lips before cutting the ties securing him to the bed, leaving his hands and feet bound. They lifted him, one at each end of his body, and carried him out of the house. He was semi-coherent and limp with disorientation.

_****_

The children remained handcuffed as they were loaded into a windowless van and Elliot was put in the trunk of a car parked behind it. The vehicles moved out fast, carrying the four brothers and all of their prisoners.

_****_

When the U.S. Marshals arrived at the townhouse an hour later, all they found was an empty basement. Around that time, the Hernandez brothers were busily securing their captives in a new location over 70 miles away.

_****_

_**December 2019**_

Fin sat at his desk and uneasily watched for Olivia to arrive.

He felt like a rat. 

He knew, he **knew** , that she would have gone down the stairs in a split second if she had been there and known that Elliot Stabler was outside asking to see her.

Eight years apart couldn't erase the ones she'd spent with him as her partner. Fin didn't even have to question that.

Not that she wouldn't be furious at seeing him. No doubt she would. She would yell at him, scream at him, tell him she hated him and he would take it. She would probably even slug him and Elliot would let her. He would have to ease back into her life, going to whatever lengths she asked of him, and he would do it without hesitating.

Fin didn't have to question that either.

There was no way that Benson and Stabler could stay away from each other once they were put back into each other's orbits. They were like magnets. Inevitably, the two of them would become attached again at some point. 

He couldn't keep this from her. It wasn't fair to her.

Or, he reluctantly thought from deep down inside, to Elliot. The man he had encountered outside was not the same. He looked like he needed serious help. 

And, Fin thought guiltily, probably a friend. 

**  
_**November 2011**_ **

She was pacing around their bed, watching him pack. He could feel the nervousness coming off of her in waves. She was obviously having second thoughts. 

To be honest...he kind of was, too. But he was also exhilarated like he hadn't been in a long, long time. She was happy to see him... **alive** again after so long. 

But this wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind.

"Baby..." she said nervously.

Kathy stopped walking, folding her arms tightly against herself. 

"Are you **sure** you want to do this?" she finally asked.

Elliot looked over at her. She looked close to tears. 

He dropped the shirt he had been folding and went to her. When he enveloped her into his arms, she started to cry.

"Do you want me to tell them I changed my mind?" he said quietly against her hair. "Tell me what you want, Kat. If you don't want me to go, I won't go."

She sniffled and shook her head into his chest.

"No," she said, clearing her throat tearfully. She looked up at him and he cupped her face with his hands, brushing up into her hair. "I know how much this means to you, El. I can't ask you not to go." She bit her lip. "I'm just worried."

He nodded.

"I know," he said seriously. "But I'm telling you, for an undercover job, Cragen assures me that this will be easier than anything I ever did with SVU. The U.S. Marshals already have the suspects nailed. They want to be able to rescue all of the children that they've been trafficking for the last year and a half first."

He squeezed her hands reassuringly.

"All I'll be doing is making friends with these guys until they tell me where they're keeping the kids," he told her. "Then the marshals take it from there. Hell, I'm betting I'll be spending more time bored in the hotel they're putting me up in instead of actually working. Think of it like a deployment." 

His eyebrows jumped playfully. 

"Last time I deployed, you sent me pictures of you in racy lingerie. If you wanted to recreate some of them for me to take along, I wouldn't say no. Just putting that out there."

He was grinning as he finished, trying to put her mind at ease. She shook her head, but had never been able to resist that smile since the moment she'd met him as a teenage girl.

"That was boot camp," she said, grinning back. "And I'm pretty sure the pictures wouldn't look quite the same...we're a long way from 17, you know."

He grinned, kissed her forehead and then left the room.

She considered a moment and then grabbed her phone. She disappeared with it into the bathroom 

Elliot quietly pushed open the door to the room next to theirs and padded in softly. He approached the toddler bed that his youngest son had just recently become big enough for and stared down at the boy sacked out against the blankets.

He had met with his older children for lunch earlier that day to let them know that he was leaving the next day. Now adults, they could handle being told that he would be going undercover but they definitely weren't happy about it.

Especially Maureen. She had always been a "Daddy's Girl" more than any of her sisters and she was a natural worrier. She had hugged him hard and cried, begging him to be careful and to come back ok. He had assured all of them that they had nothing to worry about. 

He considered kissing Eli without disturbing him. But he couldn't help himself.

He bent down and lifted his 2-year old son up into his arms, embracing him tightly. Eli whined a bit at being rused and then snuggled against his father's shoulder like it was his favorite place to be. 

A lump swelled up in Elliot's throat. Even though he was excited about the job, he hated leaving them. He always had.

"I've got to go away for while, Little Man," he whispered.

He stroked his son's wispy baby hair. Kathy refused to cut it, insisting that their son didn't need a haircut until he was at least 3. He knew that, though she refused to admit it, she was trying to hold onto the "baby" stage of their last baby for as long as she could.

"I know it's going to be tough on everyone for awhile," he went on. "Can I tell you a secret?" He breathed in the small of his baby shampoo and hugged him again. "It's even tougher on me. I miss you guys so much when I'm away from you that it hurts."

He swallowed hard.

"I love you, Eli," he whispered. "Take care of your mom for me. I'll see you soon, buddy."

He gently lowered Eli back into the bed and then went back to the master bedroom. 

He found Kathy sitting on the bed, sobbing. She had heard him talking to Eli through the baby monitor. He took her into his arms and held her. 

The next morning, he woke before dawn and gathered his things in preparation to catch a 6 am flight to Sacramento, California. When he went to his nightstand to gather his keys, phone, wallet, and plane ticket, he saw that Kathy had laid a few items on top of the them.

He paused and reached for them, a smile forming on his face. 

They were photographs. One recent one of Eli dressed in a policeman Halloween costume, one of Maureen in her wedding dress, two senior portraits of Kathleen and Elizabeth, and one of he and Dick at his son's graduation from Parris Island. 

She had known without asking which moments in their kids lives held the most pride and value for him and had deliberately given him those memories to look at while he was away from them. His gaze traveled over to where his wife lay sleeping.

_God bless that woman._

He continued through the photos, seeing two more at the bottom of the pile. He was a bit confused at first when he saw a picture of he and Olivia in formal attire, wondering where his wife had gotten it, and then remembered that Maureen had invited his partner to her wedding the year prior. 

He smiled at the memory. Olivia had been genuinely shocked at receiving the invitation and he had teasingly chided her. Of **course** she had been invited to the wedding, and to all of the festivities before hand. She was expected to sit in the front row with all of them, too. She was family. 

He hadn't expected his words to make her cry, but they had.

He smiled again and then flipped to the last one. There was Kathy, apparently during the previous night, smiling impishly and wearing a wine-purple set of lacy lingerie.

He had to stifle his laugh so as not to wake her as he carefully put all of the photos into his pocket. He picked up his suitcase and travel bag, kissed his wife one more time, and then left.

He had no idea that he wouldn't be coming back.

**  
_**December 2019**_ **

Officer Kevin McLaughlin fired up his computer and glanced around a minute to be sure that nobody was nearby to see what he was doing.

Then he typed in the web address for the USACOPS online law enforcement directory.

He wasn't as naive as many of the cops at the 61 thought he was...he had seen homeless people before and junkies. He knew how they tended to act, even though he was still practically a police academy "boot," as they all liked to keep reminding him.

But he couldn't stop thinking about the guy he had released back on the street the day before.

He'd thought he would get a reprimand once the sergeant found out, but Sergeant Jensen had only rolled his eyes and told him to get himself laid before his bleeding heart made him too unbearable to handle. 

He wasn't sure what he was doing. The guy had probably been high, mental, or both. But, in his own crass way, the sergeant had been right.

Mclaughlin had **never** heard anyone in the lockup ever claim to have been a cop before. 

Once the page loaded, he typed in the two names that the homeless guy had mentioned and pressed SEARCH. 

  
  


Fin was out in the field and Rollins was still at the hospital with Melissa Miller collecting evidence from the rape kit when Kat received the DNA result from what was found on the girl's shirt. She printed out the report and stared at it uneasily for a few minutes. 

Then she went and knocked on the open door of Captain Benson's office. 

Olivia was up to her ass in case files needing to be signed off and barely looked up when Kat knocked. 

"What do you need, Tamin?" she asked, signing her name on a file and opening another. 

The detective didn't reply. When she looked up, Olivia saw Kat looking a little perplexed, holding a printout in her hand. 

She raised an eyebrow. 

"Sorry to bother you," Kat said guiltily. "But Fin and Rollins aren't here and I'm not exactly sure what to do." 

Olivia swallowed a sigh of aggravation. 

The newest addition to their squad was a fine detective, but Kat wasn't very assertive about taking charge without someone senior directing her. It was annoying and Olivia hoped it wouldn't last long. Tamin wouldn't make it long in her career, let alone at SVU, if it did.

"About what?" Olivia asked. She saw the paper Tamin held and gestured to it. "What's that?"

Kat hesitated.

"It's the DNA results from the shirt our child victim was wearing at the hospital two days ago," she said. "There was a paternal match in the database to someone who was charged with petty larceny 10 years ago."

She stopped again.

Olivia was about to snap at her. 

"So you found a match in the criminal database to a previous offender," she said in annoyance. "Go find someone who is available to assist and bring them in, then. What's the problem?"

Kat shook her head.

"The match wasn't in the criminal database," she said. She handed Olivia the paper. "It was in the employee one. He's a cop."

Olivia stared at the printout and felt the room spinning. She suddenly thought she might be sick.

Staring up at her from the page was the name and photo of Elliot Stabler.


	6. Chapter 6

_**September 2019** _

Deputy U.S. Marshal Evan Fogerty had fifteen years of experience under his belt with the agency, helping break up trafficking organizations around the country. Not much really shocked him anymore.

Until this time.

"Holy **shit** ," he breathed, stepping into the attic of the abandoned garage behind the other agents.

They were all using flashlights. It was after midnight and the attic had no electricity running to it. There was no heat, either, and it was freezing inside. The air reeked of human excrament, unwashed bodies, and rotting meat.

A few dirty mattresses were spread out along the floor and at least five children were crowded together on each one. Each child was handcuffed at the wrists and ankles with long prison chains. It was impossible to guess their ages because they were all filthy, malnourished, and in various stages of undress.

They huddled silently, staring at them as the agents spread around the room, hurrying to unlock each of their bonds.

Seeing all of the kids being tended to, Evan continued past the mattresses and made his way to the back of the room, sweeping his light back and forth.

His stomach knotted with outrage, seeing three buckets filled with human waste that had obviously been what they had been using to relieve themselves, and styrofoam trays piled around, half-full of congealing, unidentifiable substances that he hoped wasn't what they had been given to eat.

The pungent odor got even stronger as he walked toward the back corner and he had a sinking feeling that he knew what was causing it.

He was proven grimly right.

Folded bonelessly in a heap on the wood-planked floor were the wide-eyed bodies of three blonde women. They lay almost perfectly aligned, as if they had been executed all in a row.

Evan exhaled heavily and closed his eyes with sorrow. It never got easier to see, but this time it hit hard.

Because damn it...they had been so **close**. If they had just gotten there sooner, would these young women still be alive?

He was startled out of his morose thoughts by an unexpected sound. It was a bit like whining. He whipped his flashlight back up and aimed it toward the direction of the noise.

The beam revealed blue eyes closing painfully against the brightness. He moved his light over the person and what he saw shocked him.

It was a man, lying in the far corner of the darkness away from the others. His hands and feet were zip-tied to a sturdy heating unit that had been built into the wall. He was naked except for brief underwear that hung off of him and was so emaciated that his ribs were visible.

His mouth was taped and the horror and pleading on his face was instantly recognizable. The sound was coming from him. Even as the marshal stood shining light directly on him, the man squirmed and whimpered like he was desperate for someone to see that he was there.

Fogerty ran across the room and immediately knelt down next to him. He debated internally for a split-second before reaching deftly for the keys in his pocket.

"It's alright," he said as reassuringly as he could. "I'm a U.S. Marshal. I'm here to help you."

He quickly slid a key underneath the plastic tie binding the man's hands to the heater and snapped it apart. The man groaned weakly when his hands dropped down like lead weights as if he couldn't even attempt to lift them.

Evan winced. The man had obviously been in that position long enough to cause numbness. He got ready to cut the man's feet free and then changed course when he heard muffled gasping.

Instinct and compassion guided his moves, instead.

"Let me get that tape off of you," he said carefully.

He gently felt around and managed to slide his fingers under the tape. He tried to pull it as lightly as he could off of the man's face, but some stuck to the grey-dark beard anyway.

"Sorry," he murmered, tugging quickly to dispose of it all.

He carefully placed the strip of tape face-up on the ground and then looked at the man fully in the eyes. The expression looking back at him was terrified, exhausted, and told unknown volumes of horror that was yet to even be fully discovered.

Evan was still stunned at seeing him. At no time during any of the hundreds of briefings they'd held about this operation over the years was the possibility of an adult victim ever mentioned, let alone a man.

"Hold on," he said, moving to cut the man's feet free. "There you go."

The man lay feebly on the floor, shaking. Without hesitating, the marshal slipped out of his jacket.

Even though protocol was clear in the expectation that victims were not to be touched without medical personnel present except in life-saving circumstances only, he made a "conscientious, deliberate decision to act and protocol be damned, Sir" (the latter being his exact words when questioned later about his actions by the chief deputy).

It was easy to forget that victims were live people when someone spent all of his time in a supervisory position and didn't see them. Man, woman, or child, it made no difference to Evan Fogerty. The day he left a victim alone, traumatized and upset after being freed, was the day he would voluntarily quit because he would have no humanity left in him.

He gently laid his jacket down over the man, covering as much of his torso as possible to give him both warmth and dignity. He called out to his fellow agents that they had another victim and needed more medics.

_**December 2019**_

Detective Dierdre Higgens was technically not considered a "rookie' in the squad anymore because she had just completed her probationary employment period at SVU in November. But she definitely hadn't been there long enough to get a choice in covering the New Years Eve shift that most all of the higher-grade detectives took paid leave for, so she was stuck in an almost empty office waiting for what was sure to be a night of cleaning vomit from drunken suspects out of the holding cell.

Unfortunately, she also hadn't been with the squad long enough to know much about anything prior to Captain Benson taking command. So when an officer who identified himself as Kevin McLaughlin called and asked for Don Cragen, she didn't know who he was talking about.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't think there's anyone here by that name."

Puzzled, McLaughlin paused. He wasn't expecting that.

"What about Olivia Benson?" he asked. "Can I speak to her instead?"

Higgens glanced at the dark office at the corner of the bullpen.

"She's not in tonight," Higgens said. "I can forward you to her answering machine if you want."

McLaughlin hesitated. It seemed too much important somehow to just leave a message. But he wasn't sure what else to do.

"Sure," he said. "I guess so."

_**January 2012**_

Elliot sat at a corner table inside Hank's Bar in downtown Los Angeles, slowly nursing a beer and keeping a discreet eye on the pool game in the corner.

Four men were at the pool table, alternating shots with their cues. Among them were Raul and Marco Hernandez, two suspected members of the sex trafficking ring that the marshals were working to bring down, which had been dubbed "Operation Rubicon" by the feds.

It spoke volumes of how desperate things were becoming that the federal government had even considered having a retired detective come on as part of their team. The Hernandez family was the most recent target, but "Operation Rubicon" itself had been in the works for almost a decade.

There was no telling how many victims had been forced into sex trafficking in that time, but the agency estimated in the hundreds. The operation had started in Washington and then made it's way down the west coast. It was big business, extremely clandestine, and spotlessly professional, making it that much harder to locate.

The fact that they had actually wanted him to be the 'inside man' could be extremely flattering or extremely insulting, depending on how one viewed the situation. Either they were impressed by his previous history as a former cop and Marine...or they thought he was more expendable than federal agents who wouldn't risk themselves in such a situation. Other than Deputy Marshal Woodhouse, he hadn't gotten to know any of them very well, so there was really no way to tell.

Woodhouse was polite to him, but it wasn't hard to see that the marshals didn't really like having him on their team. Cragen had warned him not to expect a warm welcome and not to take it personally if they gave him shit, because as agencies went, the U.S. Marshals had a bit of a reputation for not playing well with others.

As he was being outfitted for the meeting that day, the room full of marshals, most a good decade or two younger than he, had snidely insisted that he prove he was able to reach for, pull out, and fire the gun given to him in under seven seconds before he be allowed to carry it, because that was "the record" of their last new agent.

He had, quite smugly if he were to admit it, done so in less than five seconds.

It didn't help his case in working peaceably with them, but it did give him an insufferably inflated ego whenever he was around the team that they hated. Cragen wouldn't necessary like hearing that, but...he figured if they could screw with him, he was entitled to a little screwing back.

Still, co-workers notwithstanding, Elliot had to admit...he was enjoying himself for the first time in a very long time.

Of course he missed everyone at SVU. It had been a struggle not to give in and call Olivia since he had arrived in California to tell her what was going on. He had given the captain a letter to give to her, hoping she would understand that he was never going to cut her out of his life, and was praying that she didn't hate him when he got back to New York in six months.

But being a part of the team with the marshals reminded him of the camaraderie of being in a platoon. And it definitely appealed to his inner child, getting to play "cowboy" every night, speeding around riding shotgun with them as they busted smaller players involved in "Operation Rubicon" in order to get details on the activities of the main ones.

It was during one such bust that they had gotten hold of someone who had been "recruiting" child prostitutes using an x-rated website on the dark web. The marshals had created a fake online profile for Elliot to pose as a new-to-the-game trafficker looking to trade "services" in the area and then sent it out into the ether.

It got a bite in fifteen minutes. A meeting was then arranged for Elliot to discuss the details with the Hernandez brothers at the bar he now sat in.

He wasn't wearing a wire, but behind the bar was an undercover marshal serving as one of the bartenders. Another was working in the back room as a "stock boy." Tucked into the ankle of Elliot's sock was the small snub-nosed revolver lent to him by the federal government and he was wearing a Kevlar vest under his shirt as a precaution insisted on by the chief deputy.

When Elliot got up from the table and sauntered over to the pool table, challenging them to a game, he casually asked if they could get him change for a five and a ten at the convenience store down the street.

It immediately hooked their interest.

To a normal person overhearing, it sound like a normal question from someone asking another to exchange money. To a trafficker in "Operation Rubicon," it was code, asking if they were interested in purchasing a five and ten-year old boy from him.

Elliot's heart skipped a beat when one of the Hernandez brothers suddenly whipped out a knife. Inwardly, his pulse raced, but outwardly he showed no sign of being rattled.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the marshal behind the bar move closer to the counter, preparing to pull out a gun from underneath at a moment's notice.

He stood still and raised his eyebrows.

"If you fuck with us," the one with the knife said quietly. "I'll gut you so fast, you'll be dead before you know you're bleeding. You got it?"

Elliot nodded coolly. The brothers exchanged a glance.

"Where can we meet?" the other one asked.

He gave them the address of the apartment that the marshals had set him up in to use as a cover. They agreed to meet him there in an hour.

"Ask for me," Elliot told them. "Name's Jack. Jack Donaldson."

When "Jack" walked out of the bar, he walked a few blocks to see if they would try to follow him. When they didn't, he turned into an alley where a pair of marshals waited in a car and slid into the backseat.

They didn't know that someone else was inside the top floor of the industrial building beside the alley, watching with binoculars as they drove away.

  
_**December 2019**_

Olivia sat on her couch beside the sleeping form of her son, who had insisted that he could stay up long enough to see the ball drop out of their apartment window. He had. Barely.

Her mind was a million miles away as she stared at the printout of Elliot's DNA and worried her thumbnail between her teeth. She couldn't stop thinking about it.

How had Elliot's DNA ended up on a shirt worn by a little girl who had escaped sex traffickers? Was he involved in something criminal? The idea seemed insane. None of this made any sense.

She stared at his picture and wondered if maybe she didn't know him anymore. Or if she ever really had.

That thought scared her.

She couldn't deny that it had shaken her more than she would ever publicly admit when he had abruptly left the way he had. Other than a cryptic letter given to her by the captain as she had been clearing his desk, he hadn't said a single word to indicate he would just up and retire. 

She had considered Elliot her best friend...and yet, he hadn't returned any of her messages or calls in the weeks following the shooting and once she stopped trying to contact him, it was like he had cut her completely out of his life. How had he been able to do that?

She had been through so much since he'd left that it felt like a lifetime's worth-William Lewis, adopting Noah, becoming **captain** , for Christ's sake- and he hadn't gotten in touch once. The man who had risked his life, saved her life, and shared intimate personal space with her for over twelve years...had just dismissed her like it was easy. It hurt and angered her more than she could express.

She supposed it always might. She'd had plenty of fanciful thoughts over the years of running into him unexpectedly, of slapping the shit out of him in anger, and of telling him to fuck off with his cruel handling of their former partnership.

But having him pop up as a potential suspect in a case, well...that one she hadn't seen coming.

  
_**May 2015**_

Once they had gotten Elliot addicted to the drugs, controlling him was easy.

The Hernandez brothers had been able to move him and the children twelve different times since he had first been taken prisoner and he'd literally had no memory of almost all of it.

Except for when they had very nearly killed him.

Whether it had been on accident or on purpose, he had no clue. But somehow, instead of a dose just large enough to make him woozy while they carried him, someone gave him enough ecstasy to black out.

He had woken up in the trunk of a car at some point later, hyperthermic and starting to suffocate behind the tape still on his mouth.

They only realized what had happened after Emanuel Hernandez had gone outside the house for a smoke and heard the muffled sound of gagging and choking coming from the trunk.

After they tied him back up with the others, they'd had no choice but to give him water so that he would continue to stay alive. He had puked up two bottles of it before it finally stayed down.

After he had drunk all he could, Emanuel Hernandez didn't even bother taping his mouth back up before pummelling him. Hernandez punched him with seething viciousness in the face and head, over and over, until Elliot was left dazed and bleeding.

  
_**January 2020**_

He could hear the ruckus from Times Square when the ball dropped and the city rang in the new year.

But from where he sat, feet dangling off of the edge of the pedestrian overpass of the freeway below, it was strangely quiet.

Elliot's teeth were chattering. It was freezing this high off of the ground and he was shaking so hard that his entire body trembled.

He was a little scared to think of his plan failing and having to actually feel himself having a heart attack or breaking his spine if he somehow survived.

But he just couldn't face another day of the hell he now lived in. The memories were too much and the drug addiction was so shameful that he could barely stand to wake up anymore.

His babies were dead, his wife hated him, and his best friend had not only gotten more successful once he was gone from her life but had flourished more richly than she had ever thought she could.

He was also a murderer and his face no doubt lived in the memories of the countless numbers of children who had been looking at him as they were being violated.

He shuddered with grief just remembering it. He got to his feet and stepped up to the edge of the overpass, looking a the plastic bag in his hand.

He was lucky to have gotten so much. The guy on the corner hadn't wanted to give him all of it, but he had been convinced after Elliot had literally offered him the shirt on his back and even his shoes. Those things were high-price commodities for selling.

He was probably going to end up freezing to death up there, bare-chested and in his socks, if he didn't work up the courage soon. He half-wondered if that wasn't a better alternative.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the bag filled with white powder and prepared to inhale.

He hoped fervently that overdose would make his heart short out before he hit the ground.

  
_**June 2019**_

Everyone tensed up when the attic door opened.

His adrenaline was pumping from methamphetamine, nearly making him break his own wrists when he squirmed with a force he didn't even realize, but Elliot could only squint out through a bruised and blackened eye that had been given to him the night before by Jorge Hernandez.

Raul and Mario Hernandez came inside pushing two females by the shoulders. They had their hands taped behind their backs and pillowcases secured over their heads so they couldn't see.

It had become a horrific reality by that point to see dozens of children "cycled" in and out. Elliot never knew who they were, where they came from, or what became of them once they were sold off to someone else.

But this time, instead of being pushed onto a mattress and chained up with the others, they were brought over and forced still right in front of where Elliot was tied to the wall.

Raul Hernandez looked at Elliot coldly as he removed the pillowcases.

Elliot's stomach dropped to his feet and he cried out immediately when he recognized the faces of two of his daughters.

They were older and looked different than he remembered, but he would know them anywhere.

He jerked and squirmed hard, yelling frantically behind the tape over his mouth.

Elizabeth was the first one to realize that the man laying on the floor before her, bound and gagged, was her father. Her eyes widened in shock and horror. They hadn't seen or heard from him in eight years and had thought he was dead.

" **DADDY**!" she cried.

Kathleen gasped when she recognized him. They were both terrified, but they began crying uncontrollably when they saw that he was sobbing too, looking just as scared.

Elliot shook his head desperately, whimpering out muffled pleas to the men holding onto his daughters.

Raul Hernandez just sneered. He narrowed his eyes at Elliot.

"I warned you, Detective," he said coldly.

  
_**January 2020**_

Kevin McLaughlin didn't really believe in God, or fate, or anything else of the sort. He tended to side more toward realism and natural consequences that came with actions.

At least, he did before that night.

He was supposed to be off for New Years, but one of the officers working that night had called in sick and he was next on the duty list. As soon as he had clocked in for the midnight shift and gotten into his patrol car, he almost immediately received a call from dispatch saying that someone had reported an unconscious person on the 82nd Street overpass.

He got there as paramedics were already heading up. He could see the silhouette of a man face down about three feet from the barrier separating the pedestrian bridge from the steep drop down. The man wasn't wearing shoes or a shirt.

McLaughlin assumed he was passed out drunk. But then one of the paramedics quickly called out that they needed naloxone and he saw an empty plastic bag by their feet. A drug overdose, then.

When one of the paramedics stepped over to retrieve the dose of Narcan, McLaughlin got a glimpse of the man's limp right arm and saw two things.

The first was an eagle, globe, and anchor tattoo on the man's forearm that McLaughlin, who had served six years as a Marine before becoming a cop, recognized on sight.

The second was a faded ligature mark on the man's wrist that he had seen before.

"Shit," he said, his eyes widening in horror. "Oh, **shit**."

He watched as the medics rolled the man over to administer the Narcan and he sickeningly confirmed it was who he'd thought. He still had the man's photographs that had been taken from him after he had been arrested two days prior. He'd forgotten to give them back.

The paramedics quickly put the man on a stretcher. McLaughlin went back to his car and pulled up the number he had found earlier listed under Olivia Benson.

He was frustrated when he got the office voice mail again. He hung up.

He decided that after his shift, he was going to go pay an in-person visit to the 16 precinct in Manhattan. The situation obviously warranted it now. **Someone** surely had to know this man.

He bit his lip in indecision as the paramedics loaded the man into the ambulance.

Someone had to know this man. But until he could find out...he might be the only one who did.

"Hey," he called out as the medics were getting inside. "What hospital are you going to?"

  


  
Olivia was startled to see Fin sitting inside the office when she arrived the next morning.

He looked uneasy. She looked at him warily.

"What is it?" she said without preamble. "'I'm sure you couldn't tell me anything worse right now than I've heard these last few days."

He didn't respond immediately and she looked at him incredulously when he grimaced guiltily.

"Shit, Fin," she said. "Seriously?"

Fin blew out a breath.

"I saw Elliot a few days ago, Olivia," he told her. She seemed surprised. "He looked... " He struggled to find the right words. "Rough. Really rough."

She furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean by 'rough'?" she asked.

He sucked on his lip for a moment, debating what to tell her.

"He looked like he had been sleeping in a gutter and was as high as a kite, Olivia," Fin finally said. "That's what I mean."

She gaped at him like he was nuts.

" **What**?" she said, bewildered.

Fin looked like he was going to say something, but was hesitant.

"What?" she asked again.

"It's just-" He looked uncomfortable. "Well...we all know that mental illness runs in his family. Maybe...maybe he's not the same person we remember."

He swallowed, seeing the tension rise in her body language. She was glaring daggers at him and didn't seem to even know it.

"It's just a thought," he said quietly. "He definitely sounded different...out of it and kind of jittery."

Olivia seemed to pounce on his words immediately.

"You talked to him?" she asked. "What did he say?"

_Oh, shit_ , he instantly thought, realizing he had just opened up a can of worms

He nodded slowly. Her eyebrows jumped, indicating her impatience with him for not continuing.

"We have a victim right now that had his **DNA** on her, Fin," she said. It sounded like she was about to take her claws out. "Something bad is going on here...this isn't the time to screw around! What did he **say**?"

Fin looked at her contritely.

"He just said. .. he wanted to see you," he replied, meeting her eyes briefly. "He kept asking me to tell you to come talk to him."

She looked shocked. 

"So then...why didn't you?" she said

He continued so quietly that she hardly understood him. He suddenly had the stark realization...she was about to be pissed.

"Because I told him I wouldn't," he said. He swallowed. '"I was only trying to look out for you, Olivia. You...didn't see how he looked."

Olivia could hear roaring in her ears. She was almost shaking, she was so angry.

"You -" she struggled to say, breathing in through her nose. "You had no right to make that decision, Fin! **No right**!" She was fuming. "It's not any business of **yours** who I see or don't see, **Sergeant**."

She practically spit out the word. He remained silent. Shaking her head angrily, she pulled her jacket back on and reached for her keys.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going to do what **you** should have done, Fin," she said hotly. "I'm going to talk to Elliot and find out what the hell is going on here."

She stormed out. Fin rubbed his eyes tensely.

On her desk, unnoticed by them both, the "Do Not Disturb" function was on the office phone and two messages were blinking, waiting to be heard.


	7. Chapter 7

_**February 2012** _

Elliot sat down at a vacant cubicle in the central district U.S. Marshals office and picked up the desk phone. He punched in the number and absently chewed on the top of a pen as he waited.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Baby," he said.

He heard her gasp slightly.

"Elliot!"

The delight in his wife's voice at the unexpected call warmed him all the way to his toes. He could see her pretty smile in his mind's eye as she spoke.

"It's so good to hear from you, Babe," Kathy said. "I was getting a little nervous. I know you said you probably wouldn't be able to call very much, but still...I worry. I can't help it."

"I know, Kath," he said. "I'm sorry. The chief deputy wants all calls I make to be done on a secure office line so that they can't be traced or tapped by anyone. I can't make it in here very often."

He was trying not to sound as exhausted as he felt. It had been a long few weeks, spent looking for their "targets" during the day, because they had seemed to suddenly disappear and no one in the agency could track any of them down, and chasing dead end leads every night. He didn't think he had slept more than six hours total in the last three days.

But Kathy picked up on it immediately. She had learned early on, practically from when he joined the Marines at barely more than a kid, that any anxieties plaguing him always manifested by disturbing his dreams or keeping him too tense to rest.

"You sound tired, El," she said in concern. "Are you able to get any sleep?"

"Not much," he admitted. "But I'll be ok. I won't be out here much longer, it's sounding like. We're really close to getting an arrest."

He paused and she heard a tell-tale crinkling on his end of the line.

"Don't drink too many of those," she said matter-of-factly. "They'll going to end up giving you a heart attack."

Elliot swallowed a gulp of the Redline Xtreme energy drink he was holding and couldn't suppress a grin. She hated when he drank them.

"No promises," he said. "I have to go, Kath. I love you."

"I love you, too," she said. "Be careful."

She said it every time they talked. Neither knew it at the time, but it would be the last time they would speak for over eight years.

Because a little over a month later, when their "targets" decided to leave Los Angeles...they would take Elliot with them.

_**January 2020**_

Officer McLaughlin radioed dispatch to advise them of his location and walked briskly into Brookdale University Hospital and Medical Center. He showed his badge to the nurse at the front desk.

"Officer Kevin McLaughlin, 61 precinct," he said. "Can you tell me if you've admitted any 'John Does' that were brought in for a drug overdose? I'm looking for a man maybe in his 50's, dark brown or greying hair, approximately six feet, wearing no shirt or shoes."

The woman peered through tortoise-shell glasses at the computer as she typed in an inquiry.

"There's one with those specifications currently admitted," she replied. She looked at McLaughlin. "You know I can't give you any specifics without a court order, right?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "I'm just trying to find out who he is. I think we arrested him a few days ago, but he didn't have any ID on him then."

He looked at her hesitantly.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked. "I guess...hypothetically, maybe?"

She raised an eyebrow. He blushed slightly.

"I just-I mean...if someone were to ask me about him, maybe want to know if he's alright," he stammered. "Could I tell them...I mean, what could I-"

The nurse leaned forward slightly.

"Officer," she interrupted softly. She gazed at him. "How long have you been on the job?"

She could see he was young. Maybe a bit older than her own son, but not by much.

He looked surprised at her question. The fact that he even answered was all the proof she needed.

"Two years, Ma'am, " he said.

She nodded.

"I've been here twenty," she said. "I have seen all manner of rude, condescending cops trying to bully information out of doctors and lawyers threatening to sue over illegal access to patients."

She looked at him seriously.

"Now, young man," she went on. "I want you to tell me-hypothetically, maybe-will I have to deal with either of those scenarios tonight?"

It took him a moment to understand.

"No Ma'am," he said, shaking his head.

She looked almost amused and then glanced over her shoulder.

"Now, I can't answer any specific questions since you don't have his information," she said. "But you **could** make your way down the hall, through the emergency department, and past the last room on the right, and glance inside."

Her eyes flickered.

"Only because you're looking for the south elevator, of course," she added.

McLaughlin looked at her, first in surprise, then in comprehension. He cleared his throat and made sure he spoke loudly enough to be overheard.

"Ok, thank you," he said. "And could you point me toward the south elevator, please, Ma'am?"

The nurse smiled. She spoke louder, too.

"Certainly," she said. "It's down the hall past the emergency department. You can't miss it."

  
_**April 2012**_

Elliot stepped out of the cab and walked up the stairs to the apartment that the marshals had secured for him to use in Long Beach while he worked with them. It was a hell of a lot nicer than the one in Los Angeles that "Jack Donaldson" used.

There was a beautiful view of the ocean from the lobby, but in all honesty, he was itching to just go home. He missed Kathy, his kids, and his normal life more than he thought he would.

It was just getting frustrating. Every time one of the Hernandez brothers contacted "Jack" asking if he wanted to look through their newest online "selections" to see if he was interested in a trade, he would arrange to meet them, but then no one would show up. This had happened three times in the last two months.

The marshals had started to think that they were starting to lose interest and had been talking about possibly bringing in a real, live child for "Jack" to use as bait to catch their attention again.

He **really** wasn't on board with that idea. He had told Deputy Marshal Woodhouse straight up that he wouldn't do it, job be damned.

Cragen was pissed when Woodhouse told him that. He had called Elliot at the marshals office and told him that if he really did refuse to cooperate, he would fire him. Elliot had retorted back to the captain that he didn't give a rat's ass if he was fired because he was supposed to be retired anyway.

The captain had hung up on him.

Elliot felt guilty and had decided on the cab ride to the apartment that he would call Cragen the next day and apologize. He didn't really want to leave the job unfinished. He was just tired, stressed, and surprisingly lonely.

He trudged to the elevator and leaned tiredly against the wall of the car as it took him up. He was hoping for a few hours of shut-eye before meeting back at the office that night.

He unlocked the door, went inside, and slipped off his shoes. He carefully removed the revolver from the holster on his ankle and set the gun inside the small safe in the hall closet. Then he padded into the bathroom in his socks.

He turned on the light and froze where he stood.

Raul Hernandez was standing in his bathroom, aiming a gun at his head.

"Hello, Detective Stabler," he said lowly. "Stand still and show me your hands."

Swallowing, Elliot slowly held them out away from his body.

Hernandez made a point to walk far enough away so that he couldn't be reached, as if expecting Elliot to make a sudden move to disarm him, keeping his gun aimed.

"Turn around," he ordered.

A sudden jolt of terror shot through Elliot as he thought that Hernandez might be getting ready to shoot him in the back.

He turned slowly and immediately felt the gun press into his spine. Sweat began sliding down his shirt.

"Get on your knees," Hernandez said. "Put your wrists behind your back and cross your ankles."

A second person came in, ripping electrical tape from a large roll. The gun remained in place while Marco Hernandez stepped over to where his brother stood and hog-tied Elliot's wrists and ankles together.

A moment later, something hit Elliot hard on the back of the head. He fell forward, stunned. His vision blurred dizzily and blackened.

Marco Hernandez crouched down and pulled a strip of tape tightly over his mouth, followed by another across his eyes. Raul dragged in a large wheeled suitcase.

They shoved him inside, crumpling his arms and legs painfully until there was enough room to zip it back up, and then rode the elevator down with Raul Hernandez pulling the suitcase casually behind him.

  
_**January 2020**_

Olivia pulled her car up in front of the Stabler house and for a moment, just sat staring up at it. It had been close to ten years since she had last been there.

It had been for Maureen's bridal shower at the end of 2009. It had meant so much to Elliot that she was included. He had told her that he wanted her there as part of his family. How could she have said "no" to that?

During the wedding ceremony, Olivia had surprised even herself by having to hold back tears as she watched Elliot walking his daughter down the aisle. She could see him trying not to cry and it had made her heart ache unexpectedly to see such tender emotion from him.

Maureen looked stunning, the ceremony was beautiful, and afterward, Elliot had been so proud as he introduced Olivia around to the other guests during the reception. He had been positively beaming.

It had brought the biggest smile to her face seeing how much he resembled the younger, more animated version of himself that she had missed over the years. She had even gotten him to agree to dance with her once the bride and groom had left.

She remembered thinking how much she wished she could freeze him exactly how he had been in that moment.

Olivia slipped her sunglasses up onto her head and stepped out of the car. She went up to the porch and rang the doorbell. There was no answer.

She rang the bell again, waited, and then knocked when no one came to the door.

"Can I help you?"

A male voice came unexpectedly from behind her. She turned around and was shocked when she saw who was getting out of a pickup truck that had appeared in the driveway.

"Dick?" she said, remembering the name he preferred.

She descended the porch steps and walked over to him.

Elliot's oldest son looked at her suspiciously. He appeared more muscular, now a man instead of the teenager she remembered. With his "high-and-tight" haircut, he was the spitting image of his father. He resembled Elliot so much that she almost gaped at him.

He recognized her once she got closer and looked surprised himself.

"Olivia?"

"God, look at you," she said, unable to help it. "I hardly recognized you. You could pass for your dad, almost."

Dick Stabler nodded, but didn't smile.

"I'm actually looking for him," she went on. "Is he here?"

The young man gave her a strange look. Instead of answering, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

"You mind if I smoke?" he asked, sticking one into his mouth.

Olivia was surprised, but nonetheless indicated that she didn't. He took a deep drag before expelling it back out. Then he looked at her a bit sheepishly.

"I picked it up after boot camp," he explained. "Mom hates it. I always try to do it when she's not around." He furrowed his brow. "Why are you looking for my dad? I thought you went with him."

She looked at him, confused.

"Went with him where?" she asked.

"The undercover job," Dick answered. "My mom went crazy when Captain Cragen told us how long he would be gone after he had already left. I'm assuming he's back now, since you're here."

Olivia was so shocked by his words that she couldn't speak. She finally shook her head.

"I haven't seen Elliot in eight years," she said.

Dick looked at her sadly.

"Me, either," he replied

Her phone rang. Dick puffed and blew smoke in the opposite direction while she answered it. It was Fin, calling from the precinct.

"Rollins just called and said there's a cop from Brooklyn looking for you," he said. "He says it's urgent that he talk to you. He's there right now and apparently won't take no for an answer. You want me to handle it?"

She exhaled. "No," she said, rubbing her brow anxiously. "I'm on my way back now."

She looked at Dick after she hung up.

"When will your mom be back?" she asked. " I think I should talk to her."

He considered.

"She picks up Eliza and Eli up from the YMCA on her way home from work," he said. "So probably in about an hour or so."

Olivia looked at him. "Eliza?"

"Maureen's daughter," he explained. "Mom took temporary custody of her after Maureen died. Mike isn't handling things very well."

It felt like her heart skipped a beat. He correctly interpreted her expression and looked at her ruefully.

"I'm guessing you didn't know about that either," he said. "All three of my sisters died last year. The police think they were murdered." His face turned stony. "They also said it might have had something to do with my dad's undercover job. No one ever found out."

"Holy shit," Olivia said, unable to help herself. It was a lot to process. She didn't what to say. "I'm sorry, Dick."

The young man nodded slightly. He ground the cigarette butt under his shoe.

"I'll tell Mom you need to talk to her," he said. "I try to come by a few times a week to make sure she's doing alright."

She took the opportunity to gaze fully at the tall young man whom she had first met two decades earlier as a mischievous, grinning little boy.

"And you?" she asked. "Are you doing alright, Dickie?"

She intentionally used his childhood nickname, reminding him that she had practically watched him grow up and still cared for him.

Dick gave her a sad half-smile as he got back into his truck.

"No," he said honestly. "None of us are."

  
_**June 2019**_

Elliot was lunging upright, blood dripping down from cuts on his wrists as he pulled against the zip ties. He was crying and shouting around the tape so hard that it hurt his throat.

It could barely be heard and just sounded like moaning.

In front of him, Raul Hernandez had lined his daughters up. As Elliot watched, he stood behind them and pulled back the hammer on the gun he held.

Kathleen and Elizabeth had been chained up with the children for two days, unwitting spectators to their father being consistantly abused. Their captors never touched them. The horror at seeing how they treated him was worse than anything they could have physically been subjected to.

The Hernandez brothers were wagering that they could force him to do literally anything if they threatened his daughters.

And they were right.

Elliot was horrified, ashamed, and humiliated by what his girls saw. But he held on as hard as he could, trying to be strong for them.

He longed to hold them, to touch them, even just speak to them...but he couldn't. It felt like he was dying inside more with each passing day.

And then it all came to a horrific head. When Raul Hernandez came in again two days later, he had brought Maureen with him, too.

His oldest daughter was pale and surely terrified. But she stood tall, refusing to let the man hold her bound arms, and looked Elliot right in the eyes. Her face started to shake with tears at the sight of him.

Hernandez forced the other two girls up and made them stand beside Maureen. Elliot was struggling wildly, jerking his hands hard enough to shake the steel heater that he was tethered to.

Then he shot Kathleen in the back of the head. Blood splattered the wall as she fell straight down.

Elliot yelled in agony.

Elizabeth was so terrified that she urinated on herself. She looked at her father with wide eyes, frozen in fear, and then Hernandez executed her. She collapsed on top of Kathleen.

Maureen was shaking, tears running down her face. But incredibly, she looked at her father and smiled brightly as Hernandez stepped up behind her.

"You're a Grandpa, Daddy," she choked out. "Mike and I had a baby girl two weeks ago. Her name is Eliza."

Elliot sobbed so hard that he started to retch. His muffled pleas were ignored.

Maureen closed her eyes.

"I love you-" she whispered.

Hernandez aimed, fired, and killed her before she finished speaking.

Elliot screamed so wildly that a blood vessel burst in his eye.

Raul Hernandez stepped over their bodies as the smoke from the gun barrel lingered in the air. He got down at eye level with Elliot as he yelled and sobbed uncontrollably.

"This is only the beginning," Hernandez said coldly. "You're going to watch us kill your wife, your sons...even your old partner, Detective Benson. We'll get every one of them before we kill you. You can bet on that."

He left, leaving Elliot to his grief and anguish.

No one moved the bodies. Unless he closed his eyes, he had to look at them every minute he remained there.

  
_**January 2020**_

It felt surreal to him almost. But after Olivia left, Fin, feeling guilty and not sure how to make it right, decided to go with his gut and hit the streets in search of homeless encampments. He took along the most recent photo of Elliot he could find.

Part of him was hoping he would find the man. The other part was wondering just what the hell he could possibly say to Elliot if he actually did.

He approached a small "tent city" along 3rd Avenue and 25th Street.

"Hey," he said, pulling back the closest tarp. He held out the photo. "Anyone seen this guy around here?"

The person inside appeared either asleep or unconscious. He moved on to the next one.

Two women inside jumped at the sight of him. He showed them his badge.

"I'm just looking for this guy," he said. " You ladies ever see him around here before?"

He went around for almost two hours until unexpectedly finding a lead at the 53rd Street Men's Shelter.

The woman in the front office looked curiously at the photo.

"You know," she said. "There was a guy who only stayed one night a few months ago. Could have been him. I remember because usually, men who come here stay longer or at least come back. I don't think that guy ever did."

She leaned out the door and spoke to a man walking past, carrying a stack of blankets.

"Hey, Jeff," she said. " Come here a minute."

Jeff set the blankets down on a table and came over. She showed him the photo.

"Oh, yeah," he said, when his coworker reminded him. "I think that was the 'screamer guy,' wasn't it?"

Fin raised a brow slightly. "'Screamer guy?'"

Jeff took the photo and nodded, staring at it.

"There was one guy that almost got a fight started in the middle of the night, " he said. "He was screaming in his sleep and the other men staying here weren't happy about it. "

He shrugged and handed Fin the photo back.

"Might've been him," he said. "I never saw him before then and I know pretty much everyone here. He didn't come back after that. "

  
_**January 2020**_

Officer McLaughlin waited nervously outside the 16 precinct for Captain Olivia Benson to arrive. He had told dispatch that he was taking lunch nearby so that they would know where he was and hoped he wouldn't get in trouble. He had only been able to stay a minute at the hospital.

Thirty minutes passed. He was about to leave when a woman came out of the elevator.

She looked right at him suspiciously and he had a feeling it was who he was waiting for. He stood up.

"Captain Benson?" he asked.

"My sergeant said someone was insisting to see me and wouldn't take no for an answer," she said. She sounded annoyed and he flushed. "Was that you?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied.

"Well, what's so important then?" she said, raising her eyebrow.

Instead of answering, McLaughlin took a photo out of his pocket and handed it to her. It was one taken from the man he arrested- the one with her in it.

The color drained from her face when she looked at it.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, her voice slightly unsteady.

"From a guy I arrested a few days ago," he replied. "We need to talk, Captain. There's some things I think you should hear."

  
_**September 2019**_

****

U.S. Marshal Evan Fogerty peered into the hospital room at the man laying in the bed.

****

He was hooked up to multiple IV's. His face was bruised and puffy, his lip was busted, and a nurse was wrapping his wrist in an ACE bandage.

****

Deputy Director U.S. Marshal Allan Denny came out of the room across the hall and came to stand next to him.

****

"He say anything yet?" Denny asked.

****

Fogerty shook his head.

****

"He couldn't even tell me his name," he said. "When I asked, he looked like he couldn't remember it. With the amount of drugs in him, I'm not really surprised."

****

He looked disturbed. "The doctor said his tox screen showed at least six different kinds of mind-altering substances in his system, maybe more."

****

He looked at the deputy director.

****

"How about any of the kids?" he asked. "Do they know who he is?"

****

"Most of them aren't saying anything at all," Denny said. "Only one girl seemed to know anything about him. She said he was already there when she came and never spoke because his mouth was always taped shut."

****

The deputy director looked at the marshal grimly.

****

"Apparently, she told one of the marshals at the scene that she thinks his name is 'Daddy' because she heard a woman calling him that," he went on. "She also thinks she heard the woman being shot and killed right after that but she couldn't see anyone. "

****

Evan blew out an audible breath.

****

"You know," he said quietly. "I thought I would be celebrating the day we finally nailed those Hernandez fuckers. But...Jesus. It doesn't really sink in until it stares you in the face, does it? How many kids are still out there that we don't even know about?"

****

Deputy Director Denny had on his trademark pensive expression as he gazed at the man in the bed.

****

"One thing I'd sure like to know," he said, "is how this guy ended up the only adult victim inside a sex trading ring exclusively using kids for the last twelve years."

****

He shook his head. "Poor bastard."

****

He shrugged and then half-turned away.

****

"The FBI is going to take it from here," he said. "A couple agents from New Haven are already on the way."

****

He quirked his lip slightly, the closest thing to a smile that the marshals could expect from their boss.

****

"I'll wait for them," Denny went on. "Go home. Janine hasn't seen your ugly mug in too long."

****

Evan gave a slight smirk and tipped his fingers in a wave of acknowledgement as the deputy director walked away.

****

He stood where he was for a minute longer, staring at the unknown man in the room. He shook his head regretfully.

****

"Poor bastard," he murmured in agreement.

****

He turned in the opposite direction and left.

****

****

****

  
_**October 2019**_

****

Shaken from his encounter with his wife, Elliot wasn't sure where to go next. He had the VISA prepaid card in his pocket, but didn't want to get a taxi.

****

He ended up back on the bus. Thankfully, that time it didn't make many stops, so he was left pretty much alone. When he passed the lower east side of Manhattan, he got off on auto-pilot, not even thinking about it.

****

He wasn't sure how he was operating at that point. He felt like he was about to collapse.

****

He just wanted to be with his family. There was still one more chance.

****

Much like his unexplained ability to recall his address, hers was also easy to remember at that moment. He finally made it to her building and pressed the fifth button.

****

"Hello?"

****

Relief at hearing her answer the bell made him so lightheaded that he had to lean against the building.

****

"Liv," he said gratefully. "Liv, it's...it's me."

****

There was a long pause.

****

" **Who** is this?" the female voice asked, sounding confused.

****

He furrowed his brow uncertainly.

****

"It's me," he repeated. He couldn't believe she didn't recognize his voice. "Elliot."

****

Another pause.

****

"I...think you have the wrong apartment," the woman finally said.

****

The intercom went silent.

****

His heart sank to his feet.

****

  
_**January 2020**_

****

__Olivia unlocked her office and gestured him inside._ _

****

__"Have a seat, Officer...?"_ _

****

__"Kevin McLaughlin," he supplied. He sat down in front of the desk. She went behind it, sitting down uneasily. "I'm awfully sorry to take up your time, Captain Benson. I tried leaving you a few messages."_ _

****

__Startled, Olivia looked at her desk phone and saw it blinking with unheard messages. She had set it to "Do Not Disturb" before leaving on New Year's Eve and then had forgotten._ _

****

__She looked at Officer McLaughlin._ _

****

__"Tell me how you got this," she said seriously._ _

****

__"We got a call about three days ago about a trespasser seen around a church in Brooklyn," he began. " We found him sleeping there. My sergeant was kind of...unnecessarily cruel, to tell the truth."_ _

****

__"What does that mean?" Olivia cut in immediately._ _

****

__He didn't like the look on her face just then. She suddenly looked...aggressive._ _

****

__"Kicked him around, shone a light in his face," he said uncomfortably. "I think it spooked him. He kicked my sergeant's feet out from under him and ran."_ _

****

__"Then what?" she pressed._ _

****

__"My sergeant tackled him and cuffed him," he replied. "He told me to run him in for assaulting an officer."_ _

****

__"So you're saying he's in jail right now?" Olivia asked._ _

****

__He shook his head._ _

****

__"No," he said. "I let him go the next morning, against my sergeant's advice. I just couldn't bear to keep him there. He was a wreck, Captain."_ _

****

__She seemed disturbed to hear that._ _

****

__"How so?" she asked._ _

****

__McLaughlin grimaced slightly._ _

****

__"When we arrested him, he seemed afraid of being cuffed. He was more upset than I've ever seen anyone act before, " he recalled. "In the lockup, he told us he used to be a cop and asked us to call you or his captain. He said someone kidnapped him and killed his daughters."_ _

****

__Olivia lost her breath._ _

****

__"Do you know where he went after you released him?" she managed to say._ _

****

__" No," McLaughlin said. "But I know where he is now, Captain Benson. He's at Brookdale University Hospital and Medical Center in Brooklyn. He overdosed last night."_ _

****

__Her stomach lurched at his words.__

__

__

__

__  
"Ok, Melissa," Detective Tamin said. She set a sheet of paper with eight photos on it in front of the young girl. "Can you tell me if you recognize any of these faces?"_ _

****

__Their victim had been in the care of the Department of Child and Family Services since finishing the medical exam three days earlier. They were still trying to locate her family but having no success._ _

****

__Rollins and Tamin had asked a social worker to bring her back to the precinct to see if she possibly could identify the person whose DNA had been found on her shirt. They had the man's picture included in the photo array._ _

****

__Melissa studied each one. Her eyes zeroed in on the third one and she pointed to it._ _

****

__It was the photo of the cop._ _

****

__"I recognize him," she said. "Except he has a beard now."_ _

****

__The detectives glanced at each other. The medical exam had shown evidence of sexual abuse._ _

****

__"Did he hurt you?" Rollins asked gently. "Is that how you recognize him?"_ _

****

__Melissa shook her head. They were surprised by her words._ _

****

__"No," she said. "He was on the bed next to mine in the basement."__

__

__

__

__  
_You have got to be fucking kidding me._ _ _

__

__It was the very first thing that came into Elliot's mind when he opened his eyes and saw where he was._ _

****

__He was still alive._ _

****

__After all that...he was **still alive**. It was like a cosmic, cruel joke._ _

****

__Right then, he immediately began to feel the after effects of what he had done. His throat was on fire, his stomach ached, and it felt like he had bruised his entire backside._ _

****

__He began coughing and couldn't stop. A nurse walked into the room._ _

****

__"Your throat is going to be irritated for a while," she said, pouring him a cup of water. He whooped in a breath, drinking it in one long gulp. "We had to intubate you before we could pump your stomach."_ _

****

__She looked at him with a raised eyebrow as he caught his breath._ _

****

__"You're lucky to be alive," she said bluntly. "You had enough meth in you to kill anyone else your size. The paramedics also said you would have taken a dive off the Brooklyn bridge if you had collapsed forward instead of backward."_ _

****

__Elliot's gaze was averted._ _

****

__A male doctor walked in then._ _

****

__"Hello," he said pleasantly. "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes. I'm Doctor Coleman, one of the resident psychologists."_ _

****

__He didn't reply. The doctor sat down in a chair near the bed as the nurse left._ _

****

__"There's going to be a report from the paramedics and police," Dr. Coleman said, his expression and words non-confrontational. "But I'd rather just ask you, if that's alright." He gazed at Elliot kindly. "Did you purposely overdose last night?"_ _

****

__Elliot looked at the blanket covering him without saying anything. Past the point of caring, he shrugged without meeting the man's eyes._ _

****

__"Yeah," he finally said huskily._ _

****

__"Why would you want to do that?" the doctor went on carefully._ _

****

__He swallowed hard, eyes burning._ _

****

__"What does it matter?" he said. His voice was raspy. "No one would believe me, anyway."_ _

****

__A female voice came softly from the doorway just then._ _

****

__"I would."_ _

****

__Elliot's heart skipped and his eyes widened.__

__

__

__

__  
Olivia stood still in the doorway, unable to believe her eyes._ _

****

__The person sitting up in the hospital bed looked nothing like she remembered. He was thinner than she had ever seen him, his hair had greyed considerably, and an unkempt beard covered most of his face._ _

****

__Swallowing, she walked further inside. He wouldn't look at her as she crossed in front of the bed, his face tipped resolutely down._ _

****

__"Can you give us a minute?" she asked the doctor quietly._ _

****

__Dr. Coleman considered._ _

****

__"Sure," he said finally. "I'll just wait outside."_ _

****

__She nodded dismissively, not even really hearing him._ _

****

__His hands were clenching the blanket hard enough for his fingertips to turn white as she came up beside him. She stared at the side of his head, watching his back shuddering as he breathed._ _

****

__There was so much she wanted to say, to ask, hell...to **scream** after all this time. She was still so hurt, confused, and angry, even after eight years and what seemed like an entire new life._ _

****

__Olivia blew out a breath._ _

****

__"Elliot," she finally said, nervously._ _

****

__A tense silence hung in the air._ _

****

__He braced himself, unable to bear even looking at her. He missed her so much. But he knew that seeing her look at him with the disgust he feared would be too much, so he didn't dare try to glance up._ _

****

__Then he jumped in surprise, feeling her gently grip his hand._ _

****

__His lips began to quiver as he tried to hold back the tears. That's when she reached out, placed her fingers softly under his chin, and tipped his face up to make him look at her._ _

****

__She swallowed hard, finally seeing his eyes, and then smiled._ _

****

__"Hi," she whispered._ _

****

__A sob ripped through him and then he broke. He slumped forward, weeping uncontrollably in anguish._ _

****

__Olivia blinked tearfully and sat down quickly on the bed._ _

****

__She leaned forward, wrapping Elliot in a tight embrace, and let the last eight years of pain make its way silently down her face as she held him._ _

****


	8. Chapter 8

Elliot was clutching her so tightly that it hurt. She swallowed, her hands pressing against his back, and kept telling herself to breathe.

After a minute, he leaned back away from her, looking ashamed and mortified. 

"Sorry," he said shakily, his eyes tightly closed. "I'm sorry about that, Liv." 

Hearing that name again from his lips sent a lump swelling in Olivia's throat. She swiftly stood up and then stood awkwardly next to the bed, not sure what to do. 

Another sob escaped and he broke it off immediately, turning his face away.

"I just...missed you, " he whispered. "So, so much." 

He sounded completely heartbroken and it threatened to undo her. She had to bite her lip to keep tears from breaking down.

"I missed you, too," she confessed quietly.

It was the truth and she couldn't deny it. She had missed him like she would have missed a limb being cut off.

She had gotten used to it not being there. But if she could have gotten it back somehow, she would have done anything in the world.

But she still couldn't believe what her eyes were seeing. Or even understand how, after so long of all but erasing himself from her life, it was possible for Elliot to be in front of her, looking the way he did. Fin had said he didn't look the same, but never in her worst nightmares could she have envisioned the actual evidence of it. 

Tears filled her eyes again despite her best effort when he turned his head and looked at her fully. He wasn't just thin. His face was practically skeletal, as if he was malnourished. It looked like he hadn't had a shave in months and his hair looked to be falling out in patches near the top of his head. He had painful-looking sores around his nose.

But worse than all of that, at least in her view, was how much his eyes didn't look like they belonged to him anymore. They were the one part of him that had always defined his features and been her window to his mood, thoughts, and personality for thirteen years. 

The eyes looking back at her at that moment looked completely dead inside. It was as if he had no life inside of him anymore. 

It scared the hell out of her, but she didn't know what to say. She had a million questions. 

He spoke before she could and broke the silence. 

"Why are you here? " he asked. "How did you know where I was?"

She bit her lip. 

"A cop from Brooklyn came to see me," she replied quietly. "He said you were in the lockup there a few days ago." She swallowed and held something out. "And you had this in your pocket."

His eyes fell on the photo she was holding out but he didn't move to take it. He looked back at her, an odd look on his face that she didn't like.

It looked like fear.

"Elliot-" 

Olivia couldn't keep from asking the one thing that had been on her mind since she heard about it.

"What is going on?" she finally said. "Have you been taking drugs?"

She was trying to keep the astonishment from her voice and failing. Elliot stared down at the blanket, nervously toying with it. 

He didn't see her suddenly look sharply at the marks on his wrist. 

"Yes," he whispered. 

He couldn't look at her. 

"Where have you been sleeping?"

She couldn't bear to think about what her imagination was supplying her. The thought of Elliot on the streets was too painful to comprehend.

Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own.

"Fin said you have a son," he said quietly. "Is that true, Liv?"

She swallowed hard, suddenly wanting to burst into tears of anger and sorrow.

He should have been the person she had told first. He should have been there to love her son the way she had loved his kids. He should have been the one she called those first few months every time she worried that she wasn't good enough to be a mother.

_Damn it, Elliot. It should have been **you**_.

"Yes, " she replied. "I do. His name is Noah."

The happiness in her voice was unmistakable and made him tear up again. He looked at her, his eyes red.

"I'm happy for you," he said painfully. 

Her chin trembled. But before she could speak again, a soft knock broke the tension. A nurse came in. 

"Hi," she said brightly. " I just need to check your IV." 

Olivia cleared her throat and moved a few steps away, gathering herself again. The nurse made some notes on his chart.

"Would you like anything?" the nurse went on. "The doctor wants you on an easy diet to give your stomach a break for now. I can bring you some crackers and ginger ale...or maybe some orange juice?"

The hunger pangs couldn't be ignored and neither could his most desperate desire at the moment.

"Yes, please, to all of it," he said quietly. "Also...am I allowed I take a shower?"

The nurse looked surprised. 

"Of course," she replied. "I'll bring you what you'll need when I come back with the crackers and drinks."

"Thank you," he said gratefully. 

When the nurse left, Olivia looked at him hesitantly. 

"I should go," she said awkwardly. "Do you want me to come back?"

He suddenly looked at her so frantically that it made her slightly nervous.

"Yes, " he said quickly. "Please, Liv. Please, come back today." His eyes bore intensely into hers. "Will you?"

She nodded and he seemed to relax. She bit her lip hesitantly.

"Do you want me to call Kathy? " she asked. "I'm sure she'll want to know where you are, Elliot."

She didn't mention that she had spoken to his son. But she couldn't imagine that Kathy would actively ignore that he was hurting.

"I'll do it," he said. "Just, please....make sure you come back today. Please."

She wondered if he had forgotten that she could still spot his lying tell from a mile away. He must have. Because she saw him squint when he said he would talk to his wife, so Olivia had a feeling he wasn't going to.

Nevertheless, she could sense how important it was to him to hear her say she was coming back.

"I will," she said. "I promise, Elliot."

**_April 2012_**

Emanuel Hernandez was coming up from the basement when Raul and Marco came in. 

Raul was dragging a suitcase behind him. He whipped it around and unzipped it while it was still upright. 

Emanuel had to step back to keep from being hit in the legs when a man tumbled out from inside and onto the floor in a heap. 

"What the fuck?" he said, gaping in shock at the man laying bound and unmoving in front of them. He looked at his brothers. "Who the hell is that?"

Marco looked slightly nervous.

"A cop," he replied.

Emanuel's eyes bugged out of his head. 

"A **cop**?" he screeched. He looked over at his oldest brother. Raul narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you a fucking **idiot**?!"

He looked like he might have a stroke. He kept shaking his head.

"Christ," he said anxiously. "Oh, Christ...we're dead men. We're fucking **dead** men! What the hell did you **do**?" 

"Would you relax?" Raul snapped finally. "Jesus. Nothing is going to happen, you asshole. Calm down." He rolled his eyes. "Just put him downstairs before he wakes up."

Emanuel looked at Raul like he was insane. 

"This is a bad idea, man," he said. "This is really bad idea."

Marco piped in. "I told you."

Raul balled his fist angrily.

"Shut your mouth," he growled. "Man up, you pussies. Christ." He stalked over and gripped the cop roughly by one arm, sliding him toward Marco. "Take him down. Now."

Emanuel shook his head, but moved to help his younger brother pick the man up. He swung heavily between them, but remained unconscious.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Raul, " he said, as they started down the stairs. 

Raul just glared.

"Fuck off," he said sourly. "This wasn't even my idea."

Another man walked in and caught the tail-end of their words as the other two went down the stairs. He raised his eyebrows at Raul Hernandez.

"Stop worrying," he said. "You just keep getting me my supply." 

His face was cold and calculating.

"As long as **he's** here," he went on, eyes flickering toward the stairs,"No one will be giving you any trouble. I'll make sure of that."

_**January 2020**_

When she got back to the precinct, Fin was waiting for her. He motioned for her to close her office door before he spoke.

"I went looking for Elliot around some of the local homeless shelters," he said quietly. " Staff at one of them think he may have been there, but no one else seems to know him."

He was looking at her contritely.

"I'm going to keep looking, Olivia," he said. "I promise I'll do my best to find him."

She winced guiltily. 

"I'm sorry, Fin," she said. "I didn't mean to blow up at you. This whole thing has been a shock." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "You don't need to look for him anymore. I know where he is."

She inhaled slowly and looked at him.

"That cop from Brooklyn that came to see me?" she reminded him. Fin nodded. "He told me Elliot was at a hospital in Brooklyn. That's where I just came from."

A worried look came over Fin's face.

"Shit," he said in alarm. "Is he alright?"

Olivia shook her head, uncertain of how much she should tell him. She was still trying to figure it out herself.

"No," she finally replied. "I don't think he is."

Fin looked to be weighing what to say. 

"Well, I don't mean to make things any more complicated," he said, "but you need to see what Rollins just found out about our child victim. She said that she recognized Elliot."

She followed him out of the office. Amanda was leaning over Kat's shoulder, looking at the other detective's computer. She looked up when Olivia and Fin approached

"You got something? " Olivia asked. 

Rollins nodded. 

"Melissa identified the photo of the cop who's DNA was on her shirt," she said.

Olivia glanced at Fin, wondering if they knew that Elliot had been her partner. From the way Amanda spoke, it didn't sound like it. She didn't bring it up. 

"She said he was 'on the bed next to her in the basement,'" she continued.

Olivia looked at the other woman, confused.

"What does that mean? " she asked.

Kat jumped in then.

"She wouldn't say, " she said. "But-" 

She began typing. 

"I had TARU looking for her image on the internet while we've been trying to locate her family, to see if it may have been part of any child pornography websites," she continued. "They just emailed me this morning. They got a hit."

She gestured for Olivia to look. Olivia bent over her other shoulder. 

There on the screen, their victim looked out with big, solemn eyes. The advertisement under her promised "kinky adventures with your dream girl" to anyone interested. But instead of a phone number or email to contact, there was an unreadable encrypted code. 

Olivia furrowed her brow. "What is that?"

"We don't know," Rollins answered. "TARU is still working on it."

Kat was looking at Olivia pensively.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what Melissa said," she began, "and that's when I noticed something. I had TARU enlarge the picture."

She made a few more keystrokes and the girl's face was suddenly blown up so much that the only thing in the frame was edge of one eye. Kat motioned again.

"Look next to her," she said. 

Olivia followed her direction.

Then her stomach jumped into her throat and she suddenly gripped the back of the chair Kat sat in. Fin looked sick when he realized what they were looking at.

The enlargement of the photo showed what looked like a rail, with a hand tied to it and an arm extended out.

An eagle, globe, and anchor tattoo was starkly visible on the forearm portion.

"Oh, my God," Olivia whispered weakly.

**_April 2012_**

He came back into consciousness in a dizzy haze. His head lolled to the side and he instantly felt the prickling sensation from his arms hanging upright in place.

He wiggled his fingers as much as he could from where his hands were tied painfully tight. A groan pushed against the gag, unable to fully form.

Elliot blinked heavily and looked around as best he could. 

On a bed a few yards away, two boys sat silently, eating a tray of some kind of mushy substance. The chains on their wrists clanged each time one of them raised an arm, the slack enabling him to just barely lift a hand to his mouth.

On another bed, three small girls sat and stared at him. They watched his bare toes wiggling as he tried vainly to shift himself more upright. 

One of the girls was drinking a bottle of something. Elliot's throat tightened involuntarily as he looked at her. He was suddenly so thirsty that he would have sawed his arm clean off to get at that bottle if given half a chance.

Their captors had initiated the food and water "system" almost immediately. No one was allowed anything until he or she completed the daily assignment given by whoever decided to come downstairs. The girl currently in possession of the water had just come from a session with a pimp and both boys had taken turns with a man in his car earlier that day.

Each day so far, one of the men had came over to him and smugly told him that he could have food and water, too...just as soon as he had finished his assignment.

Elliot had managed to resist so far. But he was going on the fourth day of captivity, with having nothing to eat or drink. He was so weak that he could barely keep his eyes open.

He had a choice to make. 

He could succumb slowly, starved to death and fatally dehydrated...or he could do what they wanted. 

He just wasn't sure which one would be worse. 

**_January 2020_**

Olivia had asked Amanda if she minded having Noah come over and watch a movie with her and her daughters that evening while she ran an errand. Amanda had been happy to have him.

She didn't mention where she was going and Amanda never asked. 

It was nearly dusk when she walked back into Brookdale University Hospital and Medical Center. She went up to his room and knocked on the open door.

Then she abruptly stopped when she came inside. The room was empty.

A nurse walked by and saw her. 

"Can I help you with something?" she asked

Olivia gestured inside the hospital room.

"Where is the patient that was here earlier?" she asked. "Elliot Stabler."

The nurse scrolled down the Ipad she held. 

"It says here..." Her finger stopped. "He checked out AMA about an hour ago, looks like." 

Gobsmacked, Olivia shook her head, not understanding. 

It didn't make sense. He had been so adamant earlier about her coming back there. Why would he leave?

The nurse walked away and that's when Olivia noticed the photograph laying in the middle of the sliding tray by the bed.

She walked in and picked it up, seeing the now-familar picture of she and Elliot, and saw light indentations shining through the glossy paper. 

She flipped it over. There was writing on the back:

**O-**

**Central Parking, 117 Kent Ave**

******Meet when dark at back exit.** ** **

******Please.** ****

  


Elliot was shrouded in the darkness against the concrete wall, in a position that allowed him to watch every car that passed through the garage without being seen.

He saw one pull in and stop a few feet away. He tensed nervously, stiffening. Then he recognized Olivia getting out and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Liv," he said quietly, coming out of the shadows toward her.

She couldn't hold back a gasp when she saw him. 

Elliot had gotten to shower and shave since she had last seen him hours before. He was wearing what looked like hospital scrubs, but otherwise, he looked...exactly the way she remembered.

It was an amazing, unbelievable sight after all this time. Tears pricked her eyes.

He stopped for a brief moment, gauging her expression, and then crossed the distance between them in three huge strides. He reached out and surprised her by grabbed her into a fierce hug, so enthusiastically that he actually lifted her clear off the ground for a moment. She caught her breath as he set her back down.

"Sorry," he said, stepping back. "I'm sorry I keep hugging you-" He looked at his feet. "But, God, I missed you."

She shook her head.

"Don't apologize," she replied. "I missed you, too, Elliot. You have no idea."

The wind picked up then and that's when she realized he was in short sleeves. 

"Come on," she said. "Get in the car before you freeze."

He didn't need to be told twice. Once they were inside, she turned the heater on full blast. 

He practically melted into the seat, it felt so nice, and the heat felt like heaven. He had to stop a groan from escaping so he wouldn't embarrass himself.

She reached behind her to the backseat. 

"I got you something," she said, pulling a white paper bag up between them. "I thought maybe you haven't eaten in awhile."

Surprised, Elliot looked down into it and saw an extra-large burger, fries, and salad. He raised his head again, blinking back tears.

Christ, he was starving. And she had anticipated it without him having to even tell her.

His expression made Olivia want to cry.

He looked at her hesitantly and she quickly gestured at him.

"Go ahead," she encouraged. "It's all yours."

Like a flip had been switched, Elliot began shoveling down the food with primal urgency. He couldn't control himself. He nearly made himself sick, but he couldn't stop.

She watched him until he was finished. He blew out a shaking breath as he set the bag down.

"Thank you," he murmured gratefully.

He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. 

Olivia couldn't stand it anymore. She burst out with the question that she had been wanting to ask since the moment she had seen his DNA.

"Elliot," she said desperately. "What's happened to you? Please tell me what's going on. I don't understand."

His eyes snapped back open. She was searching his face. The intensity of her stare was too much and he had to look away, swallowing.

"I can't tell you," he whispered.

His eyes were fixed on the mirror outside the window. He was suddenly tense.

Olivia shook her head in confusion.

"Why?" she asked, trying not sound as emotional as she felt. "You used to be able to tell me anything." She couldn't keep the hurt from her voice. "Why won't you talk to me? What happened to being my partner?"

She realized that she was bordering on hysterics and bit off the rest of her words. 

Tears were leaking down his face as he gazed out the window.

"I can't tell you," he said again. He looked back at her desperately. "You have a son now, Olivia. You have a **son**."

"What does that have to do with anything?" she exploded crazily, unable to take it anymore. "Why are you on the street? Why are you taking drugs? Why are you **acting** like this, damn it?!"

**"BECAUSE I CAN'T LET HIM FIND YOU!** " Elliot finally shouted back, losing control. 

Olivia was shocked into silence.

He balled his fists, shaking.

"I can't stay in one place," he said harshly. "I can't be in a hospital where they can give out my name, I can't go home to my family, and I can't be around **you** , Olivia!"

The fear on his face made her feel sick. 

"If he finds me, then he finds everyone I love," he said. "You, Kathy, my boys...he'll kill all of us. **All** of us." He swallowed frantically. "Including your son. He can find anyone. **Anyone**."

Tears gathered in her eyes as he gave up and sobbed, hanging his head.

"He already got my girls," he croaked, shaking his head. "I can't let him get anyone else."

She was horrified.

"Who, Elliot?" she asked. "Who did?"

Elliot shook his head, red eyes looking so frightened as he gazed at her that she wanted to cry out.

"That's the whole point, Liv," he whispered. "I can't remember. Anyone could be him. He could be anywhere."

"Why do you think that?" she asked.

His face twisted.

"Because I **do** remember what his job is," he said shakily. "Olivia..he's a U.S. Marshal."

_**April 2012**_

Elliot moaned, unable to stand it anymore. It had taken four days, but he had finally decided to relent He had to have something to drink or he would die.

All of the sudden, footsteps rapidly descended down. Elliot blinked wearily at the approaching figure and then was hit with such overwhelming relief when he recognized who it was that he almost collapsed down against his bonds.

Rescue had finally arrived. Thank God.

Deputy U.S. Marshal Brent Woodhouse stepped closer and stared down at Elliot laying bound and gagged on the bed for a long moment. 

Then Raul Hernandez came up next to him and handed Woodhouse a paper bag. Elliot made a muffled sound of shock as be watched the marshal take it and then hand over a wad of cash.

"Thank you, sir," Woodhouse said teasingly. He looked at Elliot again, and his next words made Elliot's stomach drop to his feet. "You need to move them out of here quick. My team will be here within an hour."

Elliot's eyes widened in disbelief and horror. Woodhouse smirked, seeing his expression, and then addressed him directly.

"Oh, and don't worry, Detective," he said. "I already called Captain Cragen to tell him what a **fantastic** job you've been doing. You're invaluable, really. In fact...I even recommended that you stay on for a longer assignment."

He smiled in amusement.

"Of course, you were happy to agree," he went on. "You're so **dedicated**! I told him how grateful I am for recommending you."

Elliot shook his head desperately, unable to believe what was happening. 

Woodhouse winked at him and followed Hernandez back up the stairs.


	9. Chapter 9

He was looking around nervously.

"We should leave, Olivia," he said urgently. "This isn't a good spot to be in."

There was so much more that she wanted to ask, but she could sense his nerves were heightened. So she did the next thing that, to her, was as obvious as anything could ever be.

"Ok," she agreed. "It's getting close to Noah's bedtime, anyway." She nodded. "My bed is pretty big. Noah and I will share and you can sleep in his room tonight, if you want."

Elliot looked at her in alarm when he realizes what she meant. He shook his head immediately.

"No," he said quickly. "I can't go **home** with you, Olivia. Are you crazy?"

She just raised an eyebrow as if she had anticipated his refusal.

"Then I'll get us rooms in a hotel somewhere," she said easily. "We don't have to go to my place."

Elliot was looking at her in disbelief. Olivia gave him a confused one back, not sure why he seemed surprised.

"What?" she said, mystified. "Did you think I was going to tell you to get out of my car and go sleep in an alley somewhere, 'see you tomorrow morning'?"

Her brows furrowed as she realized that, yes, he had actually been expecting her to do just that. 

She shook her head, aghast that he would even entertain the idea.

"I'm okay with wherever you want to go," she said firmly, "But I'm not just about to **leave** you, Elliot. How could you think I would?"

He swallowed tearfully and a hundred emotions seemed to flash on his face as he struggled to speak.

Because, way deep down inside, he **didn't** want to leave her. He thought he might die of sorrow if he had to go back to the street now after finally being back with someone he missed so badly. 

But he was so afraid. He kept imagining someone finding them, maybe watching them that very minute, and what that would mean for her. For her son.

For **him**.

He suddenly ducked his head, turning his face away, but she still saw his face twisting. 

"You should," he whispered. He closed his eyes tearfully. "You have no idea what I've done, Olivia. You should stay away from me."

Her face reflected her sadness as Olivia looked at him and he didn't see it. 

She reached over and took his hand firmly.

"Think again," she said softly. She squeezed for a moment to emphasize her next point. "It doesn't matter what you've done, Elliot. I know the person you are. No matter how long it's been...you can't change that."

He shook his head, not moving.

"Hey," she said firmly. "Look at me."

He reluctantly turned toward her. She studied his face and her voice became choked.

"We're partners," she said. "For better or worse. Remember? You told me that." She rubbed her fingers over his chapped knuckles. "If this is your 'worse," let me have your back. You still trust me, don't you?"

He couldn't speak past the lump in his throat.

His heart was racing and fear made his palms sweat, but he held her hand gratefully and finally nodded.

"Always," he whispered.

She smiled softly and nodded.

"We'll sort this out, " she said with conviction. "No matter what it takes, alright?" 

Her eyes suddenly took on a warm glow.

"But tonight," she went on. "You're sleeping somewhere warm...and I'm introducing you to my son."

_**May 2012**_

When Captain Cragen saw the number on the desk phone as it rang, he stopped in the middle of the report he was signing and picked it up immediately. He recognized the U. S. Marshals office phone number.

"Elliot," he said, not having to even ask who it was. He was the only one who called from there. "How are things going?"

"This is Deputy Marshal Woodhouse, Don," a voice answered from the other end.

Alarm immediately surged through the captain.

"What happened?" he asked dreadfully. "Is Elliot alright?"

The other man laughed pleasantly. 

"Oh, yes, of course!" he said. "I'm sorry, Captain. Yes, he's fine."

Cragen let out a breath of relief. 

"Actually," Woodhouse went on. "That's why I'm calling. Detective Stabler is doing such a phenomenal job out here that I've been broaching the subject with him of possibly joining my team on a temporary basis, providing you're in agreement." 

The captain's eyebrows jumped in surprise.

"How does Elliot feel about this?" he asked. "Is that something he wants to do?"

"He is definitely in favor of the idea," the marshal said. " In fact, he suggested it. He's gained so much ground with our suspects that he's ready to go even deeper inside." 

Then Woodhouse threw down his trump card.

"If you don't mind me saying," he continued, "You've got yourself quite a fine detective here, Captain. You should be proud. I can't thank you enough for encouraging us to ask him."

The captain sounded surprised and pleased.

"Well, if he's ok with it, I am, too," he replied. "I'll talk to him about it when he checks in tomorrow and work out the paperwork on my end."

"Actually, Captain," Woodhouse said. "These guys have been burning the midnight oil for almost a week straight and most of my team are taking a day to recuperate and catch up on sorely-needed sleep. I'd imagine Detective Stabler is doing the same. Why don't we just consider this his check-in and you can go ahead and start the paperwork?"

"I suppose that will work," Cragen replied. "I'll fax it to you."

"Sounds great," the other man said. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he went on, "Oh, and Detective Stabler asked me to have you contact his wife and let her know as well, since we don't always know ahead of time when we can get in touch with our loved ones. He doesn't want her to worry." 

"No problem," the captain said. He went on seriously. "Take care of my detective, Brent. I mean it."

On the other end, Deputy Marshal Woodhouse held the phone, looking down at Elliot tied to the bed and half-conscious while he spoke to Cragen. The detective seemed to be incoherent from the drugs he had just been given and was hardly making a sound.

Woodhouse smiled widely.

"Take **care** of him?" he repeated jovially. "I won't let him out of my sight, Captain. I can **promise** you that."

_**January 2020**_

The first night, he didn't sleep.

He would only agree to come back with her on the condition that she had to let him get out behind the building and come in through a service door. He insisted that he not be seen coming in with them. 

She stopped to pick up Noah on the way. Elliot stayed in the car and almost lost his breath when he saw them walking back together. Olivia looked absolutely enamored and more lovely than he had ever seen her when she interacted with the young boy who responded equally in kind. It hurt his heart.

She was finally a mother. And he hadn't been able to see it happen.

Being in her unfamiliar apartment bordered on overwhelming and he struggled not to let it show. She offered him Noah's room. He quietly declined. She offered to take the couch herself and let him have her bed. He declined again.

Olivia bit her lip, not sure what to do about the odd tension that had seemed to be permeating from him.

"Ok," she said quietly. "I'm going be a few minutes getting Noah tucked in and then I'll get the couch set up."

She went into her son's room and closed the door. Soon, he heard the sound of their laughing voices through the wall as they commenced what was obviously a nightly ritual. 

Tears burned his eyes and he stood up fast. He walked uncertainly around the room, taking in the numerous windows looking out over the city with trepidation. 

_This is a bad idea. I shouldn't be here._

When Olivia emerged a few minutes later, she carried an armful of blankets, a pillow, and an oversized sweatshirt that she'd found in the back of her closet that she wasn't sure who had left there. She deposited everything on one end of the couch.

They stood looking hesitantly at each other. She stepped over closer to him and reached out to grip his shoulder for a minute, unsure of what to say but still wanting him to know she was there for him. 

He looked at her and tried to smile.

She quietly bid him good night and went to her room. He glanced at the couch, then at the windows, and bit his lip anxiously. He walked back over to the front door, checked that it was locked, and then slid down slowly to the floor to sit against it. 

His position was low to the ground, easier to be concealed in, and furthest from the windows. He was close to a corner so that no one could come up behind him and the door was against his back so that he would feel anyone trying to open it.

He wanted to sleep. So, so badly.

But he couldn't.

_**June 2019**_

"Please," Kathleen was pleading. "He's choking!" 

She looked at the man standing there, growing increasingly more panicked. 

"Take the tape off! He's **choking**!"

Sitting a few feet away, Elizabeth was crying so hard that she couldn't even speak.

Elliot would have hated that his daughters were begging on his behalf...if he had been able to think. But presently, the only thing that registered was that he couldn't get any air.

He had abruptly started to vomit a few minutes after being given drugs and with his mouth unable to open, it had gone back down his throat. Kathleen had seen him suddenly start gagging and turning red and had immediately yelled until one of their captors was forced to come and investigate.

The man was just standing there, watching. Her father was making horrible gurgling sounds by that point and looked absolutely terrified as he realized he was about to choke to death and the man was **standing** there.

"What's **wrong** with you?" she screamed. " **HE CAN'T BREATHE!**

Elliot's vision was blurring. He looked at Kathleen in desperate panic.

Finally, the man ripped the tape roughly away. Elliot collapsed forward, spewing and coughing so hard that his stomach ached. He dragged in huge spurts of air like a drowning man.

By the time he could breathe normally, Elliot was left hanging painfully by his hands, unable to muster the strength to hold himself up. 

Looking disgusted, Emanuel Hernandez stepped over the mess that had gotten on the floor and left without saying anything.

Kathleen broke down into sobs. Elliot struggled to keep his eyes open and even in his state, tried to reassure both of them.

"I'm fine," he croaked. He could barely speak. " It's ok, baby. I'm fine."

He knew he wasn't very convincing. 

_**January 2020**_

Sudden shaking jarred her out of deep sleep sometime in early morning.

"Mom," a voice whispered loudly. " **Mom**."

Olivia looked blearily over at Noah. He stood beside her bed, insistently tapping her arm with a worried look on his face.

She sat up immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

That's when she heard screaming coming from the living room.

"Oh, shit," she murmured, hurrying to slide out of the bed. Her son looked bewildered and scared. She laid a hand on Noah's arm. "Stay in here a minute, ok?"

"Ok," he replied.

She hurried out of her bedroom and saw an empty couch, looking like it hadn't been used.

She flipped on the lamp and was surprised to see Elliot on the floor. He was curled up against the front door, hugging his arms over his chest and yelling in his sleep.

Olivia quickly went over and knelt down next to him.

"Elliot," she said. She gently gripped his shoulder. "Elliot, wake up."

He twisted away from her touch and let out a cry that was terrified and terrible. She said his name again, rubbing his arm forcefully, and he abruptly gasped awake. He tried to jump to his feet and nearly toppled over, still half-unconscious.

"Whoa, hey," she said quickly, reaching out instinctively to steady him. "It's ok. It's me."

He was gulping air like he was choking, looking petrified.

"I can't breathe," he gasped in panic. He wheezed frantically and clutched both of her arms with desperate, trembling fingers she crouched in front of him. "I can't-"

He doubled over with sudden sobs that almost took him to the floor. Olivia pulled him over to her, still on her knees, and wrapped him tightly in her arms. He gripped her like he was dying.

"You're ok, Elliot," she said painfully. "Just take some deep breaths. You're ok."

Her voice trembled with emotion as she rubbed her hands up and down his quivering back. He was weeping against her shoulder, so distraught that it made her want to cry with him.

A gut-wrenching thought occurred to her just then. She wondered just how many times he'd woken frightened and alone while out on the street somewhere.

Olivia's stomach went to her feet, thinking about it. She hugged him again and then kissed the side of his head impulsively, unable to help herself. It was breaking her heart to see him this way.

"It's alright," she murmured. "I'm right here."

She held onto him while he tried to calm down, sobs hitching against her. Finally, he blew out a shuddering gasp and pushed himself gently away.

He shivered miserably and couldn't hold her gaze more than a minute before averting his eyes away.

"Sorry," he whispered.

She wordlessly held out her hand and let him grip it as she got to her feet, pulling him up with her.

"I'll get you some water," she said, moving off to the kitchen beside them.

Elliot walked back over to the couch. He sank heavily down into it, leaning his elbows on his knees, and buried his face tiredly into his hands.

Olivia's hands were trembling as she got a glass from the cabinet. Tears blurred her vision and she could barely pour the water.

  


The next day, he did nothing **but** sleep.

Olivia had left towels for him to take a shower that morning while she got Noah ready for school. He had headed exhaustedly into her room, glanced into the bathroom, and then looked longingly over at her giant, neatly-made bed, piled with fluffy pillows. 

He still hadn't come out by the time she and Noah had to leave. When she went back to her room, she found Elliot sprawled sideways on top of her bed, fast asleep. He didn't look to have showered yet and judging by his askew position, seemed like he had collapsed there without being able to help himself.

She didn't have the heart to wake him and just left the room quietly.

After taking her son to school, Olivia spent the drive to the precinct preoccupied and worrying about what to do. 

It definitely would raise suspicions from the brass for the captain to be harboring a house guest who was involved in a current case, much less one who's DNA had been linked to the victim and wasn't yet officially ruled out as a suspect. Even though she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Elliot could never hurt anyone, he was going to have to offer an explanation sooner rather than later if she wanted to avoid getting tangled into an IAB headache.

But seeing Elliot so obviously frightened didn't sit well with her, either. Someone had him so scared that he had voluntarily lived on the streets rather than go to his own home and, apparently, had threatened not only his family, but her as well. He told a beat cop that he had been kidnapped, yet his family believed he had been on a long undercover assignment.

He said that he was hiding from a U.S. Marshal, but his shirt was worn by a rape victim who appeared in an encrypted advertisement for sex next to someone else who had the same tattoo he did. He also had ligature marks on his wrists as if he had previously been bound.

She was getting a bad feeling about it all and didn't want to believe what her instincts were trying to scream at her.

About twenty minutes after she arrived, Fin knocked on her office door. She looked up at him standing in the doorway.

"How's Elliot?" he asked her.

For a brief moment, she was sure that he knew Elliot was at her apartment. 

Seeing her hesitation, he elaborated.

"Didn't you see him in the hospital yesterday?" Fin went on.

She tried to keep the relief from showing. 

"Oh-yeah," she said quickly. "Yeah. He's...getting better."

"I assume you're going to go back," he said. "Tell him I asked about him, ok?"

She could tell that he still felt guilty over his last interaction with Elliot. She looked at him sympathetically.

"I will," she said quietly.

Fin looked at her grimly. 

"The photo we saw...that tattoo?" he said. "It was right where the victim said. Next to her."

Olivia's face blanched at the mention of it. He nodded in agreement, knowing what she was feeling.

"Are you thinking what I am, Olivia?" he asked quietly. 

She swallowed hard as she looked into his eyes. Her own dread reflected there.

"I really hope I'm wrong," she whispered. " Jesus, Fin...I hope I'm wrong." 

Amanda stuck her head in at that moment.

"Call for you, Cap," she said.

Olivia gave him a look. Fin nodded and closed the door behind him as he left. She picked up the desk phone and pressed the incoming line button. 

"Benson."

"Hello, Captain," a familar voice greeted. "It's Romero." 

Josh Romero was one of the technicians from their crime lab. 

"I wanted to let you know that I got an email from Bridgeport Hospital in Connecticut," Romero went on. "I sent out a nationwide request in CODIS with Melissa Miller's information four days ago and just received a confirmation from them that she was seen there about a month ago."

Olivia reached quickly for a pen. 

"Do you have a doctor's name?" she asked. He told it to her and she scribbled it down. "Thanks, Josh."

She stood up and walked to the door.

"Fin," she called out. He looked over. "I need you to go out to Bridgeport."

He lifted himself groggily up off of the duvet and saw a small piece of paper laying on the pillow next to his face. 

He blinked fuzzily, rubbing his hand over his face and peered at it:

**Elliot-**

**We'll be home around 6 tonight. Help yourself to the kitchen and call me if you need anything.**

**-Liv**

Shivering, he pulled the duvet messily up over himself and sank back into oblivion.

  
  
Fin walked in to the emergency department of Bridgeport Hospital and showed his badge to the nurse on duty.

"I'm Sergeant Fin Tutuola," he said , gesturing next to him to Rollins. "This is Detective Amanda Rollins. We're from the Manhattan Special Victims Unit. We need to speak with Doctor Jay Fairfield."

The nurse paged Dr. Fairfield and indicated that he would be with them in a minute. Soon, a heavyset man wearing a sweater vest under a lab coat was walking toward them.

"I'm Dr. Faurfield," he said, looking at them both warily. "How can I help you?"

Rollins explained their case and what the crime lab technician had told Olivia. She showed the doctor a picture of Melissa Miller.

"What can you tell us about her?" she asked. "You told our lab that she was seen back in September. Why was she here?"

The doctor looked disturbed by the recollection of it. 

"I can't be completely positive on the face without my notes in front of me, " he said. "But I definitely remember September. A whole group of kids was brought in to the ER by some U.S. Marshals. They told the staff that the kids had been sex trafficked." 

Fin hesitated for a second before asking the next question, dreading the answer. 

"Was the group just kids?" he asked.

Dr. Faurfield looked surprised, as if he had forgotten.

"Actually, now that you say that....no," he replied. "There was a man brought in with them, too."

"Did you get any of their names?" he went on.

He nodded.

"A few told us theirs," he said. "Your girl did, if she was in our system. I can try to look through my notes and see, if you'd like."

"We'd appreciate it," Fin said.

"You said they were sex trafficked, " Amanda said. The doctor nodded, looking at her. "Did you do rape kits on any of them?" 

"A few consented," Dr. Fairfield replied. "Not all of them." 

Then his next words almost made Fin feel ill. 

"But everyone that was brought in had a medical exam," he added. "And I can tell you that all of them had physical signs of sexual penetration. Including the adult man."


	10. Chapter 10

Olivia shifted the pizza box carefully to the crook of her elbow and unlocked the apartment door. She followed Noah inside.

"Put your stuff in your room," she warned, seeing her son about to sling off his backpack. 

She set the box on the kitchen table. There was no sign of life in the living room. 

"Elliot?" she called. "I brought dinner."

No answer. Noah came in and eagerly reached for the lid of the box. She took three plates from the cabinet and set one in front of him, even though he was already devouring a slice of pizza.

She walked back to her bedroom. The door was open and she saw a rumpled space on her bed, but otherwise it appeared empty.

Then she saw half of a foot sticking out of the bathroom.

"Elliot?" she said in concern, hurrying into the room. 

  
He jumped when he heard her call his name. But he didn't move from where he sat slumped against the bathtub.

Olivia appeared in the doorway, looking worried.

"Are you sick?" she asked.

Elliot could barely respond. He was so weak and dizzy that even blinking gave him a headache. 

She winced when a panicked look came over his face and he pulled himself up to the open toilet bowl to puke.

He collapsing back down to the floor when he finished, shaking so hard that he couldn't keep still.

"I can't move," he moaned in agony. His eyes were squeezed shut. "Oh, God. Oh, God." 

A horrific realization slammed into her as she suddenly remembered. 

He had been using drugs. This probably wasn't illness.

She inhaled slowly.

"It's withdrawal, isn't it?" she said softly, trying to keep her voice light and not sound judgmental. It obviously didn't work. He wouldn't meet her eyes and what little she could see of his face was twisted with guilt. Her mind raced with anxiety as she tried to figure out what to do. 

"Can you get up?" she asked. "I'll help you."

She took his shaking hands in hers and squeezed for a brief moment, trying to get him to look at her. He kept his face down and refused. But he let himself use her for balance as he climbed to his feet because he had no choice.

Elliot held on dizzily to her shoulder as she helped him back to her bed. She pulled the covers back and he laid down miserably. He was shivering uncontrollably.

She sat next to him and tucked the duvet around him as tightly as she could.

"What did you take when you overdosed?" she asked quietly. 

His voice was lifeless when he answered.

"Meth," he said woodenly. "I think."

Olivia had to fight the sudden urge to cry. She struggled to keep her voice steady.

"How long have you been using?"

He was suddenly so exhausted that he could hardly concentrate. He shook his head. 

"Don't know," he slurred, struggling to stay awake. His next words made her freeze in shock. "They tied me up. Made me...keep taking them."

She had to force herself to keep breathing in. She wasn't expecting that.

He was practically asleep. She bit her lip and stroked over his forehead silently

"Just rest," she finally said. "It's going to be alright, Elliot. You just rest right now." 

He didn't reply. He was already breathing deeply in slumber, unconsciously clutching the blankets around himself.

Olivia let out a shuddering breath and wiped away the tears that had slipped out. She composed herself and then went to retrieve the wastebasket from the bathroom to set next to him. Then she left the room quietly, pulling the door partly closed.

  
  
Fin sat in his car in the precinct parking lot, his mind going in a million different directions. None of them were reassuring.

Their child victim had evidently been sex trafficked along with several others. And even though it hadn't been outright confirmed yet...it looked as if Elliot had, too. 

It was sickening to think about. 

How had it happened? Who had done it? 

How was he going to tell Olivia? 

She was going to find out regardless. But it didn't feel right to have such horrible, personal details about Elliot be discovered by opening a file. He knew how much she still cared for her partner and he felt like he owed it to her as a friend to let her know personally.

He also owed it to Elliot. Especially after the callous way he had ended their last meeting. His cell phone rang in the middle of his thoughts. It was Olivia, as if she had been reading his mind.

"Hi, Liv," he answered.

"Hey," she replied quietly. "Where are you?"

She sounded...strange. Hesitant. His brow furrowed.

"I'm about to leave the station," he told her.

She paused.

"I know it's sudden, " she said, "but-" She swallowed. "I think I'm going to need help. Could you come over for a minute?"

He was surprised but agreed immediately.

"Sure," he said. "I'm on my way."

"Thanks," she said.

She paused before continuing.

"Before you get here," she said, "I'm going to need you to stop at a store and get some things. I'll pay you back."

His brow furrowed slightly.

"Ok," he replied. "What things?"

  
  
_**April 2012**_

Raul Hernandez came down into the basement holding a bottle of water and walked over to him. 

Elliot followed him with his eyes, so weak that he couldn't lift his head.

The man shook the water slowly back and forth in front of him. A moan of longing escaped as Elliot watched him.

"You know," Hernandez said conversationally. "It's been pretty impressive to see how long a fit guy like yourself can last without food of water. I've heard it can take up to a week to kill some people if they're really lucky." 

He shrugged. "You're already halfway there. Maybe you'll be lucky, too."

He opened the bottle and took a long swig. 

Elliot whimpered and then shook his head weakly. 

Hernandez raised an eyebrow.

"You ready for water now?" he asked flatly. 

Elliot closed his eyes. 

Then he finally nodded without opening them.

The other man took out his cell phone and texted rapidly. He received a reply almost immediately.

"Looks like you're in luck," he said, raising his eyes to Elliot. He waved the phone. "There's someone already interested and on the way."

Shoving the phone back in his pocket, Hernandez pulled out something else and came closer. 

The feeling of the gun suddenly resting on his forehead made Elliot's eyes fly open. He froze, hardly even wanting to exhale.

"Let's just go over the ground rules, in case you forgot," Hernandez said menacingly. He slowly moved the gun between Elliot's eyes and watched the Adam's apple bob nervously. "Whatever the customer wants, you give him. If he leaves satisfied, you get to live. If not-"

He cocked the hammer back.

"You get your brains out of your ears," he concluded. He gestured to the children. "I'll be here the whole time. You try and do anything stupid and I'll pick one of them to shoot before you. Got that?"

Elliot swallowed behind the tape and nodded slowly again. 

Hernandez backed away and went to the bottom of the stairs. Elliot's heart was hammering. When he heard footsteps coming down a few minutes later, his throat almost closed completely.

A burly red-haired man stepped off the last stair.

"How much?" he asked, reaching into his pocket.

"Six hundred for thirty minutes," Hernandez replied. The other man counted out six bills and handed them over. "I stay here the whole time. You have a problem with that, you can go somewhere else."

The red-haired man looked over at Elliot with a hungry expression that would end up remaining in his nightmares years later.

"What, is he a biter or something?" the man asked, seeing the tape over his lips. "I'm not really into bondage, you know."

Hernandez sneered at the man.

"You want him untied, you pay extra," he said. "And it's not going to be the hands, so don't bother asking." He paused and then added, "I can take off the tape until you're finished." 

He looked at Elliot threateningly.

"He knows what will happen if he bites."

The man seemed to agree. He began toeing off his shoes and untucking his shirt.

Elliot watched the man with rising dread as he walked closer, unbuckling his belt. He looked over at Hernandez again.

"Can he at least turn over?"  
  


Elliot pressed his face against the mattress, groaning in pain each time the man moved, and tried to take his mind anywhere else he possibly could. 

It didn't work. He was sobbing before the man got through the first two minutes and didn't stop even after it was over.

Once the man left, Marco Hernandez came down with water. Elliot didn't move, not even to try and lift his head. He turned his face slowly, tears running silently down onto the mattress beneath him, and mechanically opened his mouth. 

As he swallowed a mouthful of water without feeling it, he found himself for the first time wishing he had just let himself die instead.

_**January 2020**_

"Baby," Olivia said, stepping up beside where her son sat eating. "Listen to me for a minute, ok?" 

Noah gazed up at her obediently, chewing. She inhaled slowly and took a minute to think of her words.

"Do you remember that time you got sick after Dylan McCabe's birthday party last year?" she began.

He thought for a second.

"You mean when I threw up in the car?" he asked. 

She nodded. 

"And remember how yucky you felt and how you spent all day laying in my bed until you felt better?" 

He nodded that he did. 

"Well, right now, Elliot is sick kind of like that," she said. "He threw up just like you did then, so he's laying in my bed until he feels better, too. Fin is going to come over with some things to help him. If you want, I bet he will watch a movie with you, if you ask."

Noah's eyes lit up. 

"Can I have popcorn?" he asked eagerly.

"Sure," she replied with a light smile.

"Can I stay up late?" Noah pressed excitedly.

She shook her head with a chuckle. "Don't push it," she said. "You can stay up until the movie is over." 

He smiled. 

"He won't be here for a little while," Olivia said. "Why don't you go turn on Netflix and pick something out? I'll make the popcorn."

Noah went into the living room and turned on the TV. She unwrapped a bag of popcorn and stuck it in the microwave. As it started popping, she poured a glass of water and moved quietly out of the kitchen.

She poked her head back into her bedroom. Elliot was shivering under the covers, looking uncomfortable even in his sleep.

Olivia set the glass on the bedside table. He murmured in his sleep and she reached out to rub his back through the blankets. 

She heard a knock on the front door. Pursing her lips sadly, Olivia tucked the blankets more securely around him and went to answer it.

Fin stood on the other side with two shopping bags.

"Hey," she greeted him somberly. "Thanks so much, Fin. Come in."

  
  
"You alright?" he asked as he stepped inside.

Fin had assumed that either Olivia or Noah was sick, judging by what she had asked him to bring over.

"I'm fine," she replied quietly. 

She looked apprehensive. He looked at her hesitantly, but before he could say anything else, Noah ran over. 

"Fin!" Noah yelled excitedly. 

He smiled at Olivia's son. 

"Hey, buddy," he said He held out his hand and Noah slapped him a high five. "How's it going?" 

"You want to watch 'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' with me?" he asked. "Mom made us popcorn." 

He glanced at Olivia for a minute. She shook her head slightly, silently asking him not to ask questions right then. 

"Sure," he said. "Let me help your mom with this stuff first and then we'll do it." 

Noah went back into the living room. Fin went with Olivia into the kitchen, but was surprised when she gestured for him to follow her instead of unpacking the bags. 

"Come here," she said quietly. 

He followed her as she walked to her bedroom, growing increasingly more uncomfortable as they approached. He had never actually been inside that room and it felt awkward that she seemed to be expecting him to. 

"Olivia-" he began. 

She put a finger to her lips, warning him to be quiet as she pushed open the door and stepped inside. He stopped mid-sentence, shocked into silence as he got a full view of her bed. Even with half of his face buried in a pillow, Fin recognized Elliot immediately. 

He was breathing harshly, his eyes screwed tightly shut, and appeared to be racked with chills. He had curled into a tight ball under the covers and Fin could see sweat shining on his forehead. 

His disbelief was evident on his face as Olivia. She beckoned him back out and closed the door again. 

"You said he was at the hospital," Fin said lowly. 

She shook her head helplessly, stopping in the hallway. He wasn't sure if it was for Elliot's benefit or Noah's that she didn't want to be overheard. 

"He checked himself out the same day I went to see him," she murmured. "I couldn't just leave him." She turned to face him and Fin could see her eyes bright with tears. "He's needs help, Fin. He's in drug withdrawal." 

Fin tried to tread carefully when he spoke. 

"Olivia, I know you want to help him," he began, "but just giving him the bottles of Gatorade and anti-nausea medicine I brought isn't going to cut it. He needs to be seen by a doctor who can get him safely off of whatever he's been using." 

"I know that," she said. "But right now, I can almost guarantee that he won't go." He could see pain in her expression. "He thinks a U.S. Marshal is after him." 

The words took Fin by surprise. She shook her head tearfully. 

"He's terrified, Fin," she whispered. "He wouldn't stay in the hospital because he thought someone could be told he was there. He's afraid to go home. He didn't even want to come here because he was scared this guy will come after Noah and me." 

"What guy?" he asked. 

She shrugged helplessly. 

"That's why he's so scared," she said. "He can't remember who it is." She rubbed a hand over her face. "Something bad has obviously happened to him. But until he can think clearly, I'm not sure there's anything we can do to find out exactly what." 

Fin thought again of what he and Amanda had found out. 

"Has he told you anything?" he asked. 

She bit her lip. 

"He said that someone tied him up and made him take drugs," she replied. "Which would make that picture we saw make more sense. We saw someone tied up and it definitely seems to be him." 

Fin sighed heavily. 

"I don't think that's all that happened," he said gravely. 

The tone of his voice alarmed her. He looked like he regretted having to keep speaking as he told her what they had found out from the doctor that day. 

"With everything we've found out so far," he said. " Olivia...it's sounding more and more like he was somehow a victim of the same sex traffickers as this little girl." 

Hearing her own suspicions echoed by Fin made her heart sink. She hadn't wanted to believe it.

She **couldn't** believe it.

He shook his head. "But I'm not sure how a U.S. Marshal would fit into it. The doctor said they were the ones who rescued everyone."

He shook his head. "But I'm not sure how a U.S. Marshal would fit into it. The doctor said they were the ones who rescued everyone."

"Mom!"

Olivia was so intensely focused that her son startled her when he came up to them. She quickly plastered a pleasant expression on her face and moved away from the hallway. 

"What's up, Baby?" she said. 

Noah was holding out the remote. 

"It's asking for a password," he said.

Fin stepped away from the bedroom door as she began following after her son. She paused for a moment and looked back at him.

"We need to get this little girl to tell us more about what happened," she said. "And we need to find out who put those pictures on the Internet. Until Elliot can tell us more, she's our only chance."

As she began putting the password into the program, Noah smiled at Fin. 

"Are you going to stay and watch it?" he asked.

Fin glanced at Olivia. She nodded. 

"Sure will," he said , winking at the boy. 

Olivia told Noah to get the popcorn. When he was out of earshot, Fin spoke to her again.

"I'll try to find out some available rehab options on Monday," he said. "It might help." 

She nodded. He eyed her in concern.

"You want me to stay tonight?" he suggested quietly. "He's going to be in for a rough weekend. You're probably going to need some help."

As much as she hated to admit it, Olivia knew he was right.

Noah came back with a bowl brimming with popcorn.

"You're in luck tonight, buddy," she said tiredly. She shared a look with Fin. "Looks like we're having a slumber party."

_**May 2012**_

She was fixing lunch for her son when the phone rang. She reached for it as she was cutting the grilled cheese sandwich into squares.

"Hello?" Kathy answered pleasantly.

"Hi, Kathy," the male voice replied. "It's Don Cragen."

She smiled. The captain had been calling her every two weeks since Elliot had left, just to check that everything was alright and to ask if she needed anything. 

He had never outright said so, but she had a strong feeling that her husband had asked his boss to do so while he was gone.

"Hi, Captain," she replied. "How are you?"

Cragen steeled himself as he sat in his office. 

"I'm great," he said. "Thank you." He paused. "But there's something I need to tell you."

He was trying to keep his voice light so she wouldn't be alarmed. But she found her heart skipping a beat anyway. 

"What happened?" she asked. Dread rose from her stomach immediately. "Oh, God...Elliot's hurt, isn't he, Don?"

The captain winced slightly. 

"No," he quickly assured her. "He's not hurt, Kathy. He's fine." She breathed a sigh of relief. "But...well, it looks as if his assignment may be changing."

She sounded puzzled. "Changing how?"

"I just got word from the U.S. Marshal Deputy Director that Elliot asked to go deeper undercover," he told her. "Apparently, he's really helped with their case and they offered to keep him on with their team."

Kathy tried to control the anxiety she was feeling.

"What does that mean, deeper undercover?" she asked desperately. "Is he still going to come home when you said he would?"

Cragen spoke delicately, sensing she was upset.

"Unfortunately," he said, "I don't know that. If he's taken a different assignment, that means that he's now on the Marshals' timeline. Right now, I haven't heard anything about how long it might take."

She could hear him hesitate. 

"What?" she prompted.

He hated to say it. But he couldn't lie to Elliot Stabler's wife.

"Kathy, federal undercover jobs can last a lot longer than a regular cop assignment," he said. "I'm not trying to worry you, but sometimes....well, sometimes certain assignments can take years." 

Her stunned silence filled the air.

"Now, I'm not saying that's going to happen this time," he hurried to say. "But you need to be made aware of the possibility." 

"No," she whispered. She was talking more to herself. "He promised me he wouldn't do this again after the last time. He **promised**."

Cragen tried awkwardly to reassure her.

"Elliot is doing such a great job, Kathy," he said. "Deputy Director Woodhouse said he's done tremendous things so far. I'm sure he's just trying to make sure he finishes the job. You know focused he gets, Kathy. I know he would never do anything to purposely hurt you guys."

She was trying not to cry. She couldn't believe this.

"Can he call me?" she asked. "Please, Don...I just want to talk to him."

"I don't think he's going to be able to get in contact right now," he replied quietly. "They asked me to call you. I'm assuming it's because he's already undercover and can't risk any outside communication."

She shook her head, tears rolling down her face.

"I promise I'll do my absolute best to get him in contact with you," Cragen told her. "I'll make sure you're the first person he calls the moment he's able to."

Kathy hung up and tried to keep the sobs from spilling out. 

_I can't handle this again. How could he do this?_

_**January 2020**_

Elliot slept for almost thirty hours straight from Friday night into Sunday.

Olivia was worried sick. She kept going to check on him and telling Fin she thought something was wrong.

Fin kept trying to reassure her. He had seen a lot of addicts during his time working in Narcotics and even though it had been almost twenty years since then, he couldn't have forgotten if he'd wanted to.

As long as he stayed hydrated, the best thing for Elliot until they could get him into treatment of some kind was rest. His body was going through a lot and it would only get worse. 

She didn't sleep very much, herself. She gave Fin the couch, but instead of bunking in Noah's room like she'd said she would, Olivia spent most of the night sitting up in her bedroom next to the bed.

Elliot woke periodically, but wasn't very coherent whenever he did. He downed the Gatorade with surprising verocity each time he was conscious and was obviously still extremely nauseous, although he didn't vomit again. He finally accepted the anti-emetic she gave him after a painful bout of dry-heaving that left his insides aching. 

Fin had assumed that everyone was asleep when he bedded down at about 2 am that first night. Olivia had disappeared into her bedroom and hadn't returned and the apartment was quiet as he dozed off.

It didn't last. Some hours later, the silence was shattered by screaming and banging and nearly gave him a heart attack. He was off of the couch in seconds.

  
  
Olivia was roused out of her own light dose by Elliot moaning violently. She got to her feet and reached for the wastebasket quickly, thinking he was sick again. 

She was surprised when she saw the bed was empty. But the sudden smashing noise from behind her made her jump and whip around fast.

Elliot was in her bathroom, standing at the sink and slamming his fists into the mirror. He was yelling furiously with each blow. The glass was already cracking and she could see blood running down his arms.

"Shit!" she cried, hurrying over to him. "Elliot, stop...stop!"

She tried to capture his hands so that he wouldn't keep doing damage to them but he kept twisting out of her attempts to still them.

"You're cutting yourself!"

Fin appeared in the room and hurried over when he saw Olivia struggling to hold onto Elliot as he fought and flailed around. She managed to grip his bloody fists. 

He was running out of steam fast. He didn't even see Fin, but it didn't matter because he abruptly stopped fighting when he realized she wasn't going to let go of him. 

"Let me **go**!" he screamed hysterically. "It's not fair! It's **not fair**!"

He slumped suddenly, howling like his soul was being crushed.

Olivia folded him into a tight embrace, hooking her chin over his shoulder. Elliot cried brokenly against her, making her shake with his gasps.

"It's not fair," he sobbed. "He said he would let them go! I did what he wanted and then he killed them anyway!" 

He gripped her painfully, his knees threatening to drop him. "I want them back. I want my babies back."

Olivia pressed her hands into his back. From behind Elliot, Fin could see her crying.

"I know," she choked out, stroking his neck. "I know, Elliot. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Her eyes floated up over his shoulder to Fin, who was looking at her somberly. She nodded her head slightly at him as she spoke to Elliot.

"We're going to get the first aid kit and look at your hands, alright?" she asked him softly. 

He nodded without lifting his head. She gestured toward the bathroom cabinet and Fin moved toward it. 

Elliot gasped violently when he suddenly realized someone else was there. She saw the fear on his face as his head came up fast. 

"It's ok," she said quickly. "It's just Fin. He's here to help you, too."

The look of embarrassment that came over Elliot's face at having the other man see him in that moment hurt Olivia's heart. He moved away from her and turned his back on them.

"Can you go check on Noah?" she asked Fin softly, taking the box from him. "I'll take care of this."

Once they were alone, she gently took Elliot's arm and guided him to sit on top of the toilet. She held out her hands.

"Let me see," she said quietly.

He slowly raised his aching hands and placed his palms in hers, looking contrite and miserable.

She let go of one and smoothed her hand over his cheek before focusing on the damage.

  
  
Fin was standing in the kitchen waiting for her when Olivia came back out about a half-hour later. 

"How's he doing?" he asked quietly.

She looked exhausted and unhinged. 

"I got him back to bed. He's already asleep again," she replied. "Thankfully the cuts weren't very deep."

She leaned against the counter and buried her face in her hands.

"Olivia," Fin said gently. "I don't think we can wait until tomorrow. I think he should go to the hospital right now."

Olivia nodded, not moving from her position. 

"You're right," she said into her hands.

Her shoulders began to shake. Fin moved over and wrapped an arm around her when she broke down into tears.


	12. chapter 11

The quiet was suddenly punctuated by the sound of footfalls coming from her bedroom and they both knew that Elliot actually wasn't sleeping. Olivia wiped her face and blew out a breath.

"Do you want me to try and talk to him?" Fin asked quietly.

She shook her head. 

"Let me give it a go, first," she replied tiredly. She took a minute to look at Fin fully in the face. "If I don't remember to say it later...thank you. Thank for being here, Fin."

She squeezed his arm gently. 

"You're a good friend," she said. "I mean that." 

He looked uncomfortable at her candidness. He just nodded. 

Olivia walked quietly back to her bedroom and slowly opened the door.

  
  
Elliot had tried to relax but his emotions were going haywire. His legs were too restless to lay still and he had to move. 

He paced back and forth beside the bed, wound up like a live wire and unable to stop shaking. His bandaged knuckles trembled as he clenched them by his sides.

He heard the door open and immediately whipped his head toward it without stopping the tread he was wearing across the carpet.

Olivia peeked in. Her face looked worn and anxious and he knew it was because of him, which made him feel even worse.

"Can I come in?" she asked quietly.

He scoffed, bordering on hysteria. 

"It's **your** room," he said.

He turned his back on her and continued pacing. She stepped further inside.

She watched him for a few seconds before walking closer. He looked at her desperately, like he wanted to stop but couldn't.

"Hey," she said, reaching out to him. She took him lightly by the shoulder and felt him twitching as she gently turned him to face her. He was breathing frantically. "Talk to me. What's happening right now?"

He swallowed and shook his head.

"I can't-I can't keep still," he said miserably. " Usually-" He started swaying on his feet. "I usually run until I can't anymore. I ran the Queensboro bridge three times once."

She eyed him helplessly, rubbing his shoulder. 

"Elliot," she said. "Why don't I take you to the E.R.? You need to get some relief from this and a doctor can help you do that. You can start detoxing safely."

He shook his head fast, looking at her like a deer in the headlights. He jerked away from her. 

"No," he said in a rush. "I can't. I told you, I can't." 

His anxiety was obvious. He began pacing again, not looking at her.

He wasn't expecting to hear the amount of emotion that he did in her voice when she spoke again.

"Please, Elliot," she said. She had to pause a minute before she could go on. "You overdosed. You just cut the hell out of yourself. I can't bear to see you suffering like this. It's killing me."

He stopped and looked slowly back at her. He shook his head tearfully and gave a quiet, painful admission.

"It's killing me, too," he whispered. 

She looked into his face, watching tears slipping out, and went over to him. He was trembling all over and he couldn't stop.

Olivia cupped his cheek gently. 

"Then let's get you some help," she said. "Let's get you better, Elliot. You deserve that."

A tortured look was on his face and she could see his internal struggle as he considered her words.

He **didn't** want to be hooked on drugs. He couldn't even remember what it felt like to feel normal. He would do anything to escape the hell of addiction. 

But he was scared. More than he knew how to tell anyone. 

"I want to, Olivia," he finally admitted. "But I don't see how. What's going to stop anyone from finding out where I am?"

Olivia squeezed his shoulder.

"You're forgetting something," she said. "I'm captain now, Elliot. That means you get VIP status, partner." She quirked an eyebrow. "Let me make a few quick phone calls and then we'll go. You just get ready. I'll take care of it."

  
  
Amanda was up, having to give Billie medicine for a fever that had developed the day before, so getting the phone call at 3 am didn't wake her. But seeing her boss' number on the screen as she answered definitely put her on alert.

"Hi, Olivia," she answered quietly, mindful of both of her daughters sleeping down the hall. 

She was expecting to hear that she was needed at a crime scene, since that was usually the only reason she would be getting a call at that hour.

So when instead Olivia asked her for a phone number, she was slightly taken aback. 

"Um...yeah, sure, " she replied. "Give me just a second to find it." She scrolled through her contact numbers until she got to the one she needed. "Ok, got it. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Olivia said. She paused as Amanda dictated it. "Thank you, Amanda."

"Is everything alright?" Amanda asked hesitantly.

Standing in her kitchen, waiting for Elliot to come out of her room, Olivia took a deep breath.

"Yeah," she answered simply.

She disconnected the call and then dialed the number Amanda had given her.

  
  
Lieutenant Declan Murphy was working in Florence, Italy. He was sitting at the desk in his hotel room on Saturday evening when his burner phone rang from his sock drawer. 

He looked over, startled. No one knew that number.

Except for Amanda. He had given it to her when he had discovered she was pregnant with their child. She would never call him.

Unless she was in trouble.

He reached for it quickly.

"Hello?" 

"It's Olivia Benson," the voice on the other end said quietly. "Can you talk?"

Murphy raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

"Sure," he replied. 

"I'm sorry to call you like this," she went on. "But I need your help."

"What's going on?" he asked immediately.

She explained the situation. He was taken aback. 

"Can you do it?" she finished. 

He didn't even hesitate.

"Absolutely," he said immediately.

He was already sitting in front of his computer, so it was easy to get to what he needed. 

"Ok," he told her. "Give the hospital this." He gave her the information and waited as she wrote it down "I'll get in touch again once I talk to my boss and see what I can find out for you."

"Thank you," she replied gratefully. "Thank you so much."

Once she hung up, Murphy began shooting off an email.

  
  
Fin assured her that he would stay with Noah and call when her son woke up so she could talk to him. Olivia hated to leave him in the middle of the night like this, but she knew he would be in good hands.

Elliot stood next to the front door, not looking at either of them. Olivia had explained to him what she had done and assured him that it was secure and foolproof, but it didn't stop the fear in his stomach. It was taking every ounce of willpower he had to go along with her. 

She thanked Fin quietly and got her coat, asking him if he was ready to go. His throat was dry and nervousness came off of him in waves as he nodded silently.

"Hey," Fin said suddenly as she opened the apartment door. "Elliot."

Startled, Elliot turned toward him uncomfortably. He barely could look at him.

Fin walked over and picked up the coat he had laid on one of the kitchen chairs. 

He held it out.

"Take my coat," he said quietly. "It will be warmer than that sweatshirt."

Olivia looked at her friend in surprised appreciation for the kind offer and gave him a tender smile.

He wasn't looking at her. He stood still, hand outstretched, and tried to convey the feelings that he didn't have the courage to say to Elliot.

Swallowing, Elliot reached out and took the garment. He met Fin's eyes for a brief moment and then looked away. 

"Thank you," he said.

He slipped it on, gratefully noticing the difference in warmth before they even stepped out of the apartment.

  
  
The intake nurse at Bellevue Hospital looked at the pair when they approached. He immediately noticed the man's bandaged fingers.

"How can I help you?" he asked.

Neither one immediately answered. 

He saw the woman look a bit surprised and glance at her companion, as if expecting him to speak. 

Then he also noticed the man appeared to be shaking and his gaze was darting around.

The nurse looked at her. She rubbed the man's back for a brief second as he stood next to her and then spoke in a voice that was quietly authoritative.

"He's going through drug withdrawal," she said. "We were hoping he might be able to get some help."

The nurse immediately thought to himself that he would be a rich man if he'd had a dime for every time a junkie came there thinking they could give out a magic pill to get a fix. 

Outwardly, he just handed the woman a clipboard to fill out and told them would get them shortly.

They went and sat down. Olivia glanced at Elliot's hands.

"You ok if I fill it out?" she asked.

He slumped wearily in the chair and just nodded.

Olivia took out the paper with the name and social security number of the undercover alias that Murphy had used a few years prior and began writing them into the intake form.

  
_**November 2014**_

"Move," Raul Hernandez ordered as each child stepped out of the van. Emanuel pushed them quickly along to the back door of the house. "Inside, let's go."

Jorge popped the car trunk and stepped out of the driver's seat. He grabbed up the bundled tarp from inside and slung it over his shoulder. 

Elliot's bare foot dangled out as he was carried inside the house.

  
  
Once he was aware again, Elliot looked around and immediately noticed something horrifyingly different about the cold room they were in. It appeared to be an attached garage.

The door windows were covered with black sheets, letting in only the barest sliver of light underneath. It was enough for them to see, but not by much.

In one corner, a video camera was sitting on a tripod next to an empty mattress on the ground.

  
  


_**January 2020**_

Olivia watched with no small amount of relief as Elliot dozed peacefully in the E.R bed. 

A doctor had given him an intravenous dose of Zofran for his nausea, fluids, and Valium for the anxiety that had been obviously tormenting him. The combination had an immediate relaxing affect and he hadn't fought it.

She sat next to the bed watching the TV on low until he suddenly spoke, surprising her. He had been in and out of sleep for the last hour.

"How long do I have to stay here?"

She looked over to see him sitting up tiredly and gazing intently at her. 

"I don't really know," she said. "We can find out when the doctor comes back in, I'm sure."

Elliot shifted uncomfortably, trying not to tug the IV line in his arm.

"They're going to ask questions," he said. "I know they will."

Olivia grimaced sympathetically. He seemed genuinely worried about it.

"It's up to you what to tell them, Elliot," she said. "You don't have to give details, but I would be honest if they want to know about what you're feeling physically, at least. They can't help you if they don't know."

He didn't look reassured.

The doctor came back in to check on them a few minutes later, knocking lightly. He held a chart in his hand.

"How are you feeling right now, Mr. O'Rourke?" the doctor asked him. "Is the medication working?"

Elliot hesitated.

"I guess," he answered. At Olivia's pointed look, he reluctantly elaborated. "I don't feel as shaky as I did before."

The doctor nodded.

"That's a good sign," he said. "How about the nausea?"

"Better," Elliot replied.

He glanced down at the chart and then at Olivia. 

"Mr. O'Rourke," he began. "I'd like to ask you some questions about your drug use. Are you comfortable with that or would you prefer for me to ask privately?"

She immediately picked up on what the doctor was trying to say.

"I can leave," she offered, getting ready to stand up.

Elliot shook his head. 

"No," he said. "Don't." She sat back down slowly as he tipped his head up and acknowledged the doctor. "What do you want to know?'"

"How long have you been using methamphetamine?" the doctor asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"When is the last time you used?"

"Three days ago," he answered.

The doctor made a notation. "How much did you use?"

Elliot hesitated. The doctor looked at him when he didn't answer after a minute.

"Enough to overdose," he finally replied.

The doctor wrote on the chart again. 

"Do you have a history of drug use?" he asked. Elliot indicated that he did. "What else have you used?"

"I don't know, " he said again. The doctor looked a little confused at the answer so he tried to clarify. "Powder. Pills. I don't know what kind they were."

"Where did you get them?"

Olivia saw Elliot's throat bob as he swallowed hard. She winced sympathetically, seeing his struggle, but stayed silent.

"Someone gave them to me, " he replied.

The doctor took a minute to scribble something down.

"Ok," he said. " Now, I'd like you to be honest with me, Mr. O'Rourke." Olivia watched the doctor look at her partner openly. "Do you want to get treatment to stop your addiction?"

Elliot's face took on that desperate, ashamed look that made Olivia's heart ache every time she saw it. He nodded slightly.

"Then I'm going to recommend a two-week intensive impatient program as a place to start," he said. "It's right here in our adjacent detox unit. You'll receive intensive medication treatment for withdrawal along with an individualized therapy regimen in our residential wing."

He winced. 

"Stay there?" he asked. "For two weeks?" The doctor nodded. "Do I have to?"

"It's an option," the doctor said. "We do also offer outpatient treatment, but the risk for relapse is much, much higher outside of a controlled environment."

Elliot looked over at Olivia pleadingly. She spoke up at once.

"What happens during outpatient treatment? " she asked.

The doctor looked at her but made sure to address both of them.

"You'll receive the same medication and therapy that is offered through inpatient treatment," he replied. "You will stay at your residence rather than in a faculity and come there at a scheduled time every day to receive it. The program is generally longer and you'll need a tremendous amount of support from friends and family to ensure a successful transition."

"Support won't be a problem," Olivia said. "He'll definitely have as much as he needs." She paused uncertainly, looking at Elliot. "But you need to do what you're most comfortable with, El-"

She caught herself reflexively and quickly corrected. 

"-Declan, " she finished meaningfully. "What do you think?"

Elliot seemed torn.

"What if I don't go to treatment at all?" he asked. "Will the withdrawal end at some point?"

"Physically, yes," the doctor said. "Without any medication, you'll go through the same symptoms you came in with tonight for about two more weeks," the doctor answered. "They might be worse. There's no way to know."

He looked at Elliot seriously. 

"Frankly, the mental effects are the main reason I strongly advocate a treatment program. There are numerous dangers to consider-risks of paranoia, potential for suicidal ideations, and intense cravings for substances, to name a few- that will be exponentially more likely to affect you in a negative way."

The doctor could see that he was becoming overwhelmed, so he paused.

"I'm going to give you one more bag of fluids before I discharge you," he said. "Think it over. The choice is entirely up to you."

A nurse came in to hook up another bag of IV fluids and then they were alone again.

"What do you think?" she asked quietly.

He looked at Olivia desperately.

"I want this to stop," he said. "I don't want to be on drugs, Liv. I don't."

Emotion choked him. 

"I can't-" He shook his head. "I don't want to stay there."

She could see him becoming tearful. She instinctively stood and walked closer. 

Elliot tipped his head down. 

"I won't do it," he insisted huskily. "I'll leave. I'm not staying there."

Olivia's voice was gentle but firm above him, but he wouldn't look at her.

"And then what, Elliot?" she asked emphatically. "You'll go back on the street, keep trying to survive with nothing except the shirt on your back? Is that what you'd rather do?"

Tears dripped off of his nose. She hated to upset him, it was breaking her heart, but she had to make him understand how much she longed to have him healthy and safe.

He shook his head again, his face twisted sadly. He couldn't speak from the tears choking him.

Without hesitation, she wrapped him into an embrace. He slumped in defeat.

"I told you," she said calmly. "I'm not just going to leave you, Elliot. I want you to get better and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you do. If you don't want to stay, I'm not going to force you to."

He exhaled shakily and looked up at her. 

"I can't keep staying with you, Liv," he said somberly. "I'm putting you and Noah at risk every minute I'm around you."

Olivia wished she could make him feel safer. She wished she could make him understand how she would die before letting **anybody** come after him, let alone her and her son.

Hopefully, once his mind was clearer, he would.

"Then why not just try the inpatient program?" she suggested gently. "Being there right now, under this name, would make it the safest place you could be while you get off of the drugs."

_And,_ she thought privately to herself, _while I find the son of a bitch who did this to you and kick his ass._

"It's only two weeks, " she went on. "You'll be back before you know it."

As much as he hated to admit it, Elliot knew she was right. 

Still, he looked like it was killing him to reluctantly nod in agreement.

  
  
When Kat arrived at work at 8 am on Monday morning, she noticed that neither the captain nor her lieutenant was there yet. 

"Morning," she said to Amanda as she sat down at her desk. She switched on her computer. "How was your weekend?"

Amanda looked over from her desk. 

"Not fun," she said sardonically. "Billie had a fever and barely slept." 

Kat winced sympathetically. "Yuck."

Immediately upon lighting up, she saw an email from TARU waiting for her. She opened it. After she read it, she looked over at Rollins. 

"TARU says they have something to show us about that encrypted ad," she said.

Amanda raised her eyebrows. She realized the other detective wasn't sure if she should go since Fin wasn't there to tell her. 

"I'll go with you," she said. 

  
  
"Alright, Mr. O'Rourke," the doctor said , handing Elliot a clipboard. "I'm going to have you start on this questionnaire outlining your history. You can finish it at the Detox Unit."

Elliot looked startled.

"I'm going there right now? " he asked.

The doctor nodded. 

"Yes," he said. "I strongly advise that you start right away to start the recovery process as soon as possible."

Olivia saw the look of dread on his face, but he didn't say anything. The doctor turned to her as Elliot began filling it out and handed her one as well.

"This is an emergency contact form" he said. "He'll also need to have someone pick him up from the detox center once he is through with the program."

The paper asked for the name and number of someone to call in case of emergency, as well as the relationship to the patient.

She thought a minute and then wrote "Olivia O'Rourke" and "sister" in the spaces.

"That's good enough," the doctor said. He regarded Elliot. "Are you ready, Mr. O'Rourke?"

Elliot swallowed and nodded.

"I'll leave you to say your goodbyes," he said. "I'll meet you at the intake desk and then we'll head up there."

The doctor left. Elliot stood up from the bed he sat on and she stood, too. 

He was doing a lousy job of concealing how nervous he was. Olivia approached and took him by the shoulders, seeing the fear in his eyes. 

"We'll get through this, El," she said, slipping into his old nickname without thinking. "I swear to you. I'll be here as soon as you're through. I promise."

She pulled him into a hug. He mechanically circled her back for a moment and then stepped back. He had an expression like he was being taken to his own execution and her heart hurt.

"See you in two weeks, I guess, " he said woodenly.

She nodded, biting her lip. Then she had a thought as he was opening the door.

"Do you want me to call Kathy and tell her where you are?"

Elliot paused, looking back at her. His face fell with sorrow and he shook his head.

"I doubt she'll want to know, " he said sadly. "She blames me for what happened to our girls." She saw tears in his eyes. "She should."

He walked out of the room, leaving Olivia to catch the breath that had left her.

  
  
"Morning," greeted CCU Detective Ian Nelson as the two women walked into his office.

"Hey, Nelson," Kat replied. "What have you got for us?"

He beckoned Tamin and Rollins over to his desk and clicked a desktop icon. The advertisement of Melissa Miller popped up, but the encryption has become a link.

"I cracked the encryption," he told them. 

He clicked the link and they watched a website pop up.

"'TaskMasters.org'," Rollins read. "What's that?"

Detective Nelson hovered over a menu page at the top. 

"It's a password subscription service," he explained. "Anyone can obtain a password for $23.95 a month and then use it to access the websites listed here."

He clicked on one called "Fun4Ever.com."

"I called and purchased a password," he said. "All of these sites seem to offer porn videos, all legit stuff, by the looks of it."

He looked grim. 

"Except for this one."

He brought up the website and the detectives watched the screen fill up with video thumbnails. He clicked the first one.

The screen enlarged and the video began playing.

Rollins felt her stomach clench.

A young girl lay naked on a mattress in the camera focus. After a moment, a man appeared and began to strip. 

"How old is that girl?" Kat breathed in disbelief. "She looks like she hasn't even started puberty."

The man climbed naked on top of her and swallowed her form. All they could see was her feet being jerked as he proceeded to violate her. 

Then they heard the noises coming from her and Amanda couldn't stand it.

"Turn it off," she murmured.

Nelson did. 

"They're all like this," he said quietly. "I haven't gotten through them all yet, but it's a different kid in each one so far."

Kat looked horrified.

"There's got to be two hundred videos here," she said, looking at Amanda. 

"Who put them there?" Amanda asked Nelson.

He picked up a notepad laying by the keyboard. 

"It looks like the majority have come from these two email addresses," he said, showing them. "I'll let you know if I find more."

"Send me videos you haven't gotten to yet," Amanda told him. "We'll help you go through them." 

She looked at Kat.

"Tell Fin when he comes in that we've got a long day ahead of us," she said grimly. " Hope you weren't planning anything tonight. This might take awhile."


	13. Chapter 12

Elliot stood nervously in the back of the elevator, keeping his eyes fixed on the man standing near the buttons. His heart felt like it was going to come out of his mouth.

The doctor had attempted conversation as they ascended, but Elliot didn't say a word.

He wanted to run. He didn't want to do this. He couldn't handle it.

The elevator stopped at the fourth floor and the doors opened. Adrenaline made his throat close.

"After you," the doctor said politely, stepping aside and gesturing. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to walk out. "Follow me, please."

He trailed behind the doctor down a long hallway and then stopped at the last door. The doctor used a badge to open it.

It buzzed loudly to allow them entrance and Elliot nearly jumped.

He stepped inside and found himself standing in a small, empty waiting room. A man sat behind a glass window at a desk.

"Good morning, Allen," the doctor said pleasantly, walking up to the glass. 

"Morning, Doctor Pearson," the man replied. He craned his neck to look over at Elliot. "Is this Mr. O'Rourke?"

Elliot looked at the man warily, not moving from where he stood next to the door. 

"It is," the doctor confirmed.

Allen spoke louder to get Elliot's attention.

"Come on over here and I'll get you checked in," he said.

Doctor Pearson walked back to the door and addressed him.

"The staff will take over now," he told him. "Good luck to you, Mr. O'Rourke. I wish you great success."

Then he disappeared out the door. 

Elliot remained where he was for several moments, struggling against the urge to turn and bolt.

"Mr. O'Rourke?" Allen prompted, starting to stand up. "Please."

The intake form shook slightly as his bandaged hands trembled. He made himself put one foot in front of the other and slowly approached the glass.

  
  
Fin was watching TV with Noah when they both heard a key in the apartment door. Olivia stepped wearily inside.

Elliot wasn't with her.

"Mom!" Noah said excitedly, jumping up off of the couch. 

She smiled tiredly at her son.

"Hey, baby," she said. " I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up this morning."

"Uncle Fin said you had to take Elliot to the doctor after I went to bed," he said. "Is he still sick?" 

Olivia glanced over at Fin and gave him a nod of appreciation.

"Yeah," she said softly. "He is." 

"Do I have to get ready for school now?" Noah asked.

She looked at her watch. After the night they'd had, she suddenly wanted nothing more than to crash. She would never let her son skip school under normal circumstances, but she was so emotionally drained that she didn't even care at that moment.

"No," she replied. "I'm staying home today, too."

"Yes!" her son exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.

He went back to watch TV. Fin stood up and walked over to her. 

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

Olivia rubbed her forehead like she had a headache coming on.

"He's going to inpatient treatment at Bellevue for two weeks," she said.

She sounded deflated. He gauged her carefully. She looked about to burst into tears.

"That's a good thing," he said gently. "He's going to get the help he needs now, Liv."

She nodded quickly.

"I know that," she said with clenched teeth, squeezing the bridge of her nose. She swallowed, trying hard to beat back the flood of emotion. "But you didn't see his face. He looked like I ripped his heart out."

A tear slid out despite her best efforts. Fin placed a supportive hand her back. Olivia sniffled quickly and shook her head, getting herself under control fast.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I'm just tired. I'm taking the morning off 'sick', but I'll come in later this afternoon." 

She looked closely at Fin.

"You should go home, too," she said. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help. Take the whole day, if you want. Lieutenant Vega is on-call and can cover you."

Fin declined.

"I'll catch a few hours at the precinct," he replied. "Rollins called a few minutes ago. TARU got through the encryption on that ad and it lead to hundreds of videos of kiddie porn. They're going to need a hand going through them."

Olivia nodded. She didn't bother trying to change his mind.

"Call me if you need anything, then," she said.

He nodded. 

She suddenly remembered something. 

"Oh, shit," she said. He looked at her in surprise and she grimaced guiltily. "I'm sorry, Fin...I forgot to get your coat back from Elliot."

He shrugged like it didn't bother him.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "He needs it more than I do, anyway."

  
  
_**November 2014**_

Having to watch while grown men took turns raping the kids on the mattress twenty feet from where he sat on the floor was brutal. 

At first, Elliot made as much noise as he could and struggled to distract them, hoping that it would make them leave the kids alone, but he quickly realized that wasn't going to happen. All it did was make Raul Hernandez angry.

He kicked Elliot savagely, over and over again, and threatened to stomp his head hard enough to give him brain damage if he interrupted them again. 

Elliot hated himself for immediately fearing more for himself instead of for the kids. But he stopped his attempts. 

On the third day inside the garage, a man came down and chose a boy to be taken to the mattress. But instead of undressing, the man looked at Raul.

"I'm not into doing it myself," he said. "I like to watch. How much extra for him to do it?"

The man was looking over at at him. A cold feeling washed over Elliot when he realized what the man was asking.

"Gonna cost you an extra grand," Hernandez replied.

Elliot felt like he couldn't breathe watching the money exchange hands. Raul folded it, put it in his pocket, and then went over to him.

_No. Please God, no._

He started shaking his head frantically before Hernandez even reached him. Raul ripped the tape off of his mouth hard enough to make him gasp at the sting.

"Please," he begged. The words tumbled out before he even thought of what he was saying. "Leave the boy out of it. I'll do anything you want me to do to you. I swear, I will. Leave the boy, please."

"You'll shut the fuck **up,** is what you'll do," Hernandez snapped at him. He took out his gun and cocked it. " You've got two choices. Either you'll do it...or I'll do it. And if I do it, I'll shoot him when I'm done."

Elliot looked over at the mattress helplessly. After a long moment, he shook his head slowly.

"That's what I thought," Hernandez said. 

He was sitting on the concrete floor with his hands bound behind him and tethered by his ankles with a long cord attached to the garage door. Raul cut the cord away from the door and gripped his arm, hauling him upright. 

He forced Elliot to hobble clumsily with his ankles still bound over to the mattress and pushed him down beside the boy.

Elliot was struggling not to cry as he felt the ties being cut from his hands, realizing he wasn't going to have a choice and trying desperately to think of a way to keep the boy from being shot by Raul Hernandez. 

But he lost control when he saw the boy laying still and looking up at him with scared brown eyes. He broke down into tears, his entire frame trembling.

And then, as if it wasn't bad enough, he heard Raul Hernandez speak again to the man from somewhere behind him.

"Do you want it filmed?"

  
  
_**January 2020** _

The intake coordinator led him to a tiny room and told Elliot it would be where he would stay for the duration of his time there. It had drab white walls, a small bed, and a tiny desk in the corner.

It made him claustrophobic just looking at it and he had nearly started hyperventilating after the man left, telling him to make himself comfortable and that a doctor would be in to see him soon. 

_Gotta get out of here. This is a huge mistake. Gotta get out of here._

"Hello, Declan."

A voice suddenly behind him made him jump. He turned quickly and saw a thin man in a grey wool sweater looking at him pleasantly from the doorway. He was holding a file.

"I'm Doctor Emmett Winslow," he said. "I'm part of the team that's going to be overseeing your care here with us." He gestured inside. "I'd like to go over your treatment plan."

Elliot regarded him like a caged animal. After a few moments of staring, he reluctantly jerked his head noncommittally in reply. 

Winslow came in. He pulled out the chair from the desk and faced it toward the bed. 

"Would you like the chair?" he invited.

He shook his head and didn't move. The doctor sat down like Elliot's silence didn't phase him. He opened the file and looked over as he spoke.

"You'll be receiving a medication-based regimen along with an individual therapist who will help you deal with any psychological triggers you may be facing," he began. 

Elliot wrinkled his nose sourly at the mention of a therapist, but said nothing. 

"I'd like to do a comprehensive evaluation now so that I can screen for any underlying medical conditions, as well as learn about your past drug history," he went on. "It should take about thirty minutes. After that, you'll need to provide a urine sample before I can begin your medication. Do you understand so far?"

He nodded unhappily.

"You'll also be meeting the nurses who will be administering your medications each day and take a tour of the facility. Meals will be eaten in the kitchen only and no food or beverages will be permitted in this room. You are free to utilize the common areas when not in therapy or stay in your room. Lights out is at 10 pm and you'll be awakened each morning at 7 am. You may sleep during the day if your medication makes you drowsy, as long as the nurses know. Any questions?"

Elliot eyed the doctor stubbornly.

"It's just two weeks, right?" he finally said. "I can leave after that?"

Doctor Winslow regarded him sympathetically. Elliot thought might grow to hate the guy just for that look alone.

"This isn't a prison sentence, Mr. O'Rourke, and you haven't been court-ordered to stay," the doctor said. "You can check yourself out at any time. But I urge you to try and see it through so that you can recover."

He curled his lip miserably. 

Doctor Winslow gestured to the bed. 

"You really should have a seat," he advised. "This will take a little while."

Sighing heavily, Elliot reluctantly went over and sat on the bed.

  
  
Olivia stayed coherent long enough to call Noah's after-school babysitter and ask her to come over at around 2 pm so that she could go in to work for a few hours. Then she passed out on the couch until lunchtime while Noah watched movies and played on his Ipad.

She ordered in takeout, much to her son's delight, and tried to think about anything except how much she wanted to call the Detox Unit at Bellevue to check on Elliot.

  
  
Elliot spent the first night in an exhausted, dreamless sleep, thanks to the medication and a full stomach. 

Doctor Winslow had given him his first dose of suboxone that evening with dinner and told him that he would begin feeling much better after it began working. 

When someone knocked on the door to wake him the next morning, he jumped like he had heard a gunshot. 

He walked blearily to the door and opened it enough to peer out at a man wearing green scrubs, one of the four nurses assigned to his treatment. The man was holding two small paper cups.

"Good morning," the nurse said. "It's time for your medication."

Elliot took the cups and looked at them. One held a pill and the other was filled with water.

Out of nowhere, his mind abruptly flashed back to laying on the ground and having a man with a gun shove a pill into the back of his throat. 

His hand trembled and he gripped the paper cup tighter to keep from dropping it. 

  
  
Fin, Rollins, and Tamin had spent the better part of the previous day going through the videos on the website and had barely managed to put a dent in them. For every one they saw, it seemed as if two new ones were being added in their place.

When Olivia arrived, she made them take a break. She sent Rollins and Tamin to the Department of Child and Family Services office to talk to Melissa Miller and told Fin to accompany another detective on an arrest.

He headed out, his head full of disturbing images that he wished he could get out of his mind. 

When he got back, he went to Olivia's office and found her sitting at her desk, staring pensively at a laptop.

He knocked hesitantly on the door frame to get her attention.

"Sykes is bringing the peeping Tom to the lockup now," he told her, referring to the detective he had accompanied.

She just nodded as if she hadn't really been listening. Fin looked at her quizzically.

"You ok?" he asked. 

Olivia looked startled, tearing her eyes from the screen and looking over the top of her glasses at him. She chewed on her lip.

"Something has been really bugging me about the way we found Elliot's DNA," she finally said.

He stepped further inside.

"Like what?" he asked.

She leaned back slightly, stretching, and took her glasses off. Her face was troubled.

"Tamin said she found the match to Elliot through the employee database," she said.

He nodded to indicate he was listening. 

"Cragen told me in 2011 that Elliot had put in retirement papers," she went on. "The employee database is only for active NYPD personnel." 

She shook her head, sounding mystified. "I'm looking at it right now, Fin. Why is Elliot still in there if he retired nine years ago?"

She turned the laptop around to show him. The screen showed a department head shot for Elliot and his work information, which was listed as the Manhattan Special Victims Unit.

Fin considered. 

"Maybe someone forgot to update it," he suggested. "The NYPD is a huge organization. It's possible someone forgot to change his status."

She leaned back and twirled a pen in her fingers. 

"Maybe," she said, not sounding very confident.

After Fin left the office, she pulled out her cell phone. She looked up Don Cragen's phone number.

She didn't like the feeling that was stirring inside of her. She hoped Fin was right and it was just a clerical error.

She didn't want to consider the alternative, but it popped in her head anyway.

Maybe Cragen had lied to her when he had told her that Elliot had put in his papers back then.

  
  
The relief from the withdrawal symptoms didn't kick in until the second day. Elliot spent the time until then sleeping off the misery as best he could.

It wasn't easy. He could barely relax.

He could hear the footsteps of the unit staff in the hallway outside the room. The door to his room had no lock and each time someone walked past, a bolt of fear would shoot through him. 

He could only truly doze off by sitting against the door the way he had at Olivia's apartment. 

Which, in turn, made him miss her and begin feeling like he was dying inside again.

He didn't think he was going to be able to stick this out much longer.

  
  
Cragen didn't return her call that day, so Olivia decided to focus on her other plan. 

Once she got home from work, she took Noah and drove out to Queens.

"Who lives here, Mom?" her son asked when they pulled up beside the house.

She turned to face him. 

"This is Elliot's house," she answered lightly. "He has a son named Eli who is older than you, but you'll like him."

They climbed the front porch steps and she knocked on the front door, stepping back and placing her hands on Noah's shoulders while they waited.

After a minute, Kathy opened the door. 

Olivia saw her eyes widen in surprise upon recognizing her. The other woman looked at her silently, like she didn't know what to say.

"Hi, Kathy," she said. "I'm sorry to just show up like this. I don't have your phone number anymore." She watched Kathy's gaze flicker to Noah and she squeezed his shoulders. "This is my son, Noah."

She saw the other woman's face soften slightly upon hearing that. When she finally spoke, her tone wasn't exactly friendly, but it wasn't malicious either. 

"What do you want, Olivia?" she asked.

"I need to talk to you," Olivia replied. "About Elliot. There are some things you should know." 

She looked at Elliot's wife openly. 

"And I'm hoping some things you might be able to tell me."

The blonde stared at them for a long moment and then stepped aside.

"Come in," she said quietly.

  
  
Doctor Gregory Hough was the psychotherapist assigned to Elliot's team. He was a small, wiry man with thick, tortoise-shell glasses. He looked like he weighed about 130 pounds soaking wet and each time he spoke, his voice had a calm, even register.

Elliot hated him at first sight.

He came to Elliot's room for their first meeting and sat in the desk chair. 

"Can we talk for a few minutes?" he asked. "I'd like to get to know you a little."

Elliot stood next to the bed and stared at the man. He refused to get comfortable or speak.

"Why don't you tell me about the first time you started using methamphetamine?" Doctor Hough invited. "What were the circumstances?"

He said nothing.

  
  
Don Cragen had just arrived home from dinner with Eileen at The Mossfire Grill when she came out on the porch where he was sitting, enjoying the Florida sunset. 

She held two cups of coffee. He smiled and took them from her while she sat in the rocking chair beside his.

"Thanks, Honey," he said.

"You left your phone when we went to dinner," she said, accepting her cup back from him. "There's a missed call and message from Olivia Benson."

Cragen couldn't stop his surprise at hearing that. He hadn't heard from his former detective since calling to congratulate her on becoming captain last summer.

"I'll call her back in a little while," he replied.

They ended up sitting outside until after dark. When they eventually came back inside, Eileen went to bed and he sat up watching old Westerns. 

He ended up falling asleep in his recliner and forgot about calling Olivia.

  
  
Eli was in the kitchen when Olivia and Noah followed Kathy inside and she had to pause when she saw him. 

The last time she had seen Elliot's youngest son, he had been a chubby, curly-haired toddler. The boy standing at the kitchen counter was tall and skinny and looked to be a preteen.

He turned to look at the newcomers and she let out a breath when she saw Elliot's facial features standing out on his face more than she had remembered.

"Eli, do you remember Olivia Benson?" Kathy asked with perfunctory politeness. "She was at Maureen's wedding when you were little."

Olivia knew she couldn't expect for Kathy to give her a grand introduction, but she still felt a pang of hurt at being regarded like little more than a stranger after she had spent so many years around Elliot's family. She had helped deliver Eli when he was born, for God's sake.

It was obvious that Eli didn't know her. She swallowed her feelings and smiled at him, for her son's sake.

"Hi, Eli," she said. "It's nice to see you again." She put an arm around Noah beside her. "This is my son, Noah. Noah, this is Eli."

Kathy told her son to show Noah his video games in the living room. She gestured toward the den and told Olivia she would be back in a minute.

Olivia checked to see if Noah was comfortable and smiled when she saw her son with a controller in his hand already, exclaiming excitedly at the amount of Playstation games next to the television.

She sat down on the couch and looked around the living room, noticing the house had seemed to have been updated since the last time she'd been there. There were family photos on the walls and her heart ached suddenly when she saw pictures of Maureen, Kathleen, and Elizabeth.

She noticed immediately that there were no pictures of Elliot anywhere.

Kathy appeared momentarily, carrying an infant in a purple sleeper. Olivia felt a smile coming over her face involuntarily. 

The baby was adorably round and kicking her feet happily as she traveled on Kathy's hip. She had big, beautiful blue eyes and a shock of dark hair.

"She had a late nap," the other woman explained quietly. 

Olivia nodded in understanding. Kathy swallowed.

"This is my granddaughter," she went on. "Eliza."

She set Eliza on a play mat and shook the toys to get the baby's attention. She blew out a breath and reluctantly sat down on the chair across from the couch. 

For a minute, she couldn't meet Olivia's eyes, until finally fixing her with a steely gaze.

"I have to tell you, Olivia," she said, seeming void of emotion, "Seeing you doesn't exactly bring warm feelings." 

Olivia's eyebrows jumped slightly at her frank words.

"No offense," Kathy had the grace to add quietly. She lowered her eyes for a moment. "You're just a reminder of a life I'd rather forget."

Olivia leaned forward and looked at Kathy sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, Kathy," she said honestly. "Dickie told me what happened to your daughters. I'm so sorry."

Kathy's face twisted for a few seconds and she looked away. 

"When did you talk to my son?" she said harshly.

"Last week," Olivia answered. "I came here looking for Elliot and he told me you were at work."

"Elliot isn't here," Kathy said angrily. "If you came here for him, you're wasting your time. I filed for a no-contest divorce in 2013 after he refused to come back from your undercover assignment. He said the job had to come first."

As if a switch had flipped, the blonde practically snarled at her.

"Not that I need to tell **you** that," she snapped. "I'm sure he did when he finally made his choice between work and our family." Angry tears shone in her eyes. "I hope that assignment was worth it."

Olivia was so gobsmacked that she could barely speak.

"Kathy," she said, shaking her head, "I wasn't with Elliot on any undercover assignment. I don't know anything about it. The last I was told, he retired after the precinct shooting in 2011. I was never in touch with him again."

Kathy looked at her in disbelief but Olivia held her gaze and she had to eventually shake her head.

"He did retire," she said roughly. "And then six months later, a U.S. Marshal came here with Captain Cragen and offered him an undercover assignment. He took it."

Olivia's ears perked instantly.

"What U.S Marshal?" she asked. "Do you remember a name?"

The other woman shrugged. "No."

Olivia's bore into hers intently.

"Kathy, listen to me," she said seriously. "I need to know as many details as you can remember about what kind of job Elliot was doing."

The blonde looked at her skeptically.

"Why?" she asked.

Olivia swallowed hard. 

"I don't think he was actually undercover all that time," she said carefully. "I think something happened to him. Something bad."

"Why do you think that?" 

"Because last week was the first time I saw or heard from him since that night of the shooting," Olivia said, "He said he had been kidnapped and that a U.S. Marshal had killed your daughters."

The other woman shook her head.

"That makes no sense," she said. "The detectives told me they think my daughters were killed by the people that Elliot was working to bring down to send him a message."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"I begged him," she continued in anguish. "I **begged** him to come back and he said he was staying no matter what I wanted. And our daughters paid the price."

"When did you ask him to come back?" Olivia asked.

"In 2013," she answered. "A month before I filed for divorce. It was the first and only time he ever called me the entire time he was gone."

  
  


_**February 2013**_

Deputy Director Woodhouse usually came the day before the U.S. Marshals were set to raid their location to tip them off and purchase more drugs. So seeing him come in two days after they had arrived somewhere else was unexpected.

Emanuel Hernandez had secured a small house through subletting from someone he received cocaine from. The property came with a backyard shed that was where they stashed their prisoners.

It was pitch black inside with the door closed, so whenever someone came in the light from outside was painful and blinding. 

Elliot was closest to the door, so when he heard the padlock being removed outside, he squeezed his eyes closed and braced himself for the light. 

Then he prayed selfishly that whoever was coming in wasn't there to bring him any "customers." There had been three before they had left the last location that had specifically requested a man. 

The third time had been so rough that he had bled.

The door opened. Despite his attempts to protect his eyes, he still couldn't see for several moments. When he could, he saw the deputy director walking toward him.

For the very first time, Elliot tried to think of his name and came up blank.

"Got ourselves a problem, here," Woodhouse said, stopping a few feet from where Elliot lay bound on the floor. He quirked an eyebrow and pulled out his cell phone. "Seems your wife is getting antsy to talk to you. She's called the office looking for you six times and now, she's somehow found my number."

He pressed a button. Suddenly, Kathy's voice was echoing around the space.

Elliot made a muffled gasp of surprise. 

"This is Kathy Stabler again. I'm sorry to keep calling you."

Hearing her voice suddenly after so long was a shot to the heart and made tears spring to his eyes. A pang of longing for her made it hard to breathe.

"I'm just...I'm worried about my husband. I know it's probably against the rules, but no one will tell me anything and I just..please, can he somehow get in touch with me? Please? I just want to know he's ok."

Woodhouse turned the speaker function off. 

From the ground, Elliot hadn't been able to stop the tears that were sliding down his face. The other man looked at him in disgust. 

"We don't need your wife causing problems for us," he told Elliot. "So you're going to call her and assure her that you are just fine."

Elliot thought he had misheard. But then Woodhouse leaned down and ripped the tape from his mouth. 

He gasped in breaths of fresh air, his eyes glued to the man standing there wearing a badge on his waist.

Woodhouse crouched down so that they were eye level and reached out to roughly grip his chin.

"Now, you look at me," he said coldly. Elliot's crazed eyes fastened on him, unsteady with previous bouts of drug intoxication. "I'm doing this out of the kindness of my heart. You don't want to fuck with me."

He reached behind him to his back pocket and brought out a piece of paper. He began reading from it. 

"Kathy Stabler," he said. "43 years old. Lives at 72-12 Castleside Street, Queens, New York. Works as a phlebotomy tech at Mount Sanai Hospital in Queens."

Elliot mouth dried up.

"Elliot Stabler, Jr.," he went on. "4 years old. Attends preschool from 9 am-12 pm Monday-Friday at Holy Child Jesus Catholic Academy in Richmond Hill, New York, and then attends the YMCA youth program in Queens from 12:30 pm-6 pm.

Olivia Benson. 45 years old. 140 Eldridge Street, apartment 4A, Manhattan, New York. Works as a detective at the 16th Precinct in Manhattan."

Woodhouse continued through the rest of them, proclaiming the home and addresses for Maureen and Kathleen and the room number of Elizabeth's dorm at Syracuse University. He even knew Dick's platoon name and where his boot camp barracks were situated at Parris Island, where his son was still training to be a Marine.

"If you think," he said menacingly, getting closer to Elliot's stunned face, "that you can try and pull a fast one when talking to your wife, I dare you to try. I guarantee that I can ensure a bullet in the head of every person on that list in the time it takes to send a text message." He raised an eyebrow. "Do we understand each other?"

Elliot felt his heart sink. He nodded helplessly. 

Then Woodhouse pulled out a gun and put it against his head. He cocked it and Elliot saw pure murder in the man's eyes. 

He felt like he couldn't breathe. He froze in place.

"I can also put one in yours," Woodhouse said coolly. "I'll let you guess who will get it first."

Without taking the gun away from Elliot's temple, he pulled out his phone again and tossed it to Raul Hernandez.

"Dial the last number," he instructed. "And put it on speaker."

He grinned coldly. 

"I hope you have good acting skills," he said. He looked into Elliot's fearful eyes. "You'd better make her believe that you're still working. Her life depends on it."

He cocked the gun.

"And so does yours."

  
  


_**January 2020**_

"I'm still trying to figure out exactly what happened," Olivia said. "But there's something else you need to know, Kathy."

The other woman looked at her warily.

"Elliot is at Bellevue Hospital right now in a detox treatment program," she went on. "He overdosed on drugs a few days back. I saw him for the first time after an officer called and told me what had happened."

Kathy's eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

"What?" she said, agape. " **Elliot?** "

Olivia nodded grimly.

"He didn't say how long he's been using them," she said. "But he did tell me that he was forced to at some point. Judging by the withdrawal he was going through, I'd guess it's been a while. He was in bad shape."

Without warning, Kathy suddenly burst into tears. Olivia looked at her in concern. It took her a minute to be able to speak.

"He came here a few months ago," she managed to say. "It was the first time I saw him in eight years. And he looked-he looked... **wrong.** He didn't seem like the same person I remembered."

She swallowed.

"I was out of my head with grief," she continued. "The police had just confirmed that my-that my girls were-" 

Her voice cracked.

"I screamed at him," she said. "I don't even know what I said. I told him to leave and not to come back."

She shook her head and sobbed. 

"Oh, God, is that when he...did I make him-?" 

She had started crying too hard to get the words out. But Olivia knew what she was trying to say. Her heart hurt for the woman. 

She didn't know what to tell her. She didn't **know** what had been on Elliot's mind that night. But she didn't want to make Kathy feel worse.

"I don't know," she finally said softly. "But try not to focus too much on it right now, okay? The important thing is that he's trying to get better."

Kathy wiped her eyes, sniffling. 

"Whatever happened to him," Olivia went on, "Elliot is convinced that this U.S. Marshal is going to find him and kill not just him, but all of us, too. He thinks he'll be putting you in danger if he were to come here. I had to admit him under an undercover alias just to get him to agree to go to hospital treatment."

She looked at the other woman gravely.

"He's scared, Kathy," she said heavily. "He's scared to death. And until we can get to the bottom of this, I don't think it will stop."

Kathy looked torn.

"What can I do?" she asked desperately. "Can I help him?"

Olivia shook her head helplessly.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. 

Kathy was startled to see tears suddenly shining in her eyes. She looked to be fighting for composure. 

"You're right," she said thickly. "He's **not** the same person we remember anymore. And I'm going to do my damnest to find out why."

  
  
The more his mind began to clear from the effects of the withdrawal abating, the worse his nightmares became.

On his fifth night, Elliot didn't even realize he was screaming until someone pounded on the door to his room in the middle of the night. He gasped awake, blinking and disoriented.

Seeing the door suddenly opening from outside made his stomach drop and he froze in placesitting up in the bed, his mouth going dry.

A male nurse stood inside his room, illuminated by the light outside. The bright light from the hallway was headache-inducing.

"Keep it down in here, God damn it," the nurse said rudely. 

Elliot had to swallow before he could attempt to speak. 

"Sorry," he said. He let out a painful breath, feeling like his heart might explode. "Can you just-please, don't just come in here, alright? Give me a minute to wake up."

The man just glared at him and slammed the door closed again.

He felt himself shaking with nerves. Despite being exhausted, Elliot knew there was no way he would be able to get back to sleep. 

After thinking a minute, he grabbed the desk chair and positioned it beneath the door knob. Then he sat on the bed, leaned wearily against the wall, and stared at the door pensively.

  
  
Her cell phone rang at 5:30 the next morning, fifteen minutes before her alarm was set to go off.

Olivia reached blearily for the nightstand.

"Hello?" she mumbled.

"Is this Olivia O'Rourke?" a female voice asked.

Suddenly wide-awake, she sat up fast.

"Yes," she replied quickly.

The woman spoke in a no-nonsense tone.

"This is Janine Fisher," she said, "from the director's office of the Bellevue Detox Unit." 

Olivia felt her stomach clench.

"I'm calling to inform you that you'll need to come pick up your brother as soon as possible."

"He's done?" Olivia asked in confusion. It hadn't even been a week. "I thought it was a two-week program."

The disapproval in the woman's voice was clear. 

"Ma'am," she said crisply. "Mr. O'Rourke is no longer permitted in our facility. He assaulted a staff member this morning. We have an absolute zero tolerance policy regarding violence here."

Olivia closed her eyes momentarily.

_Jesus, Elliot._

"If you would like to come and escort him off of the premises, you may do so," Fisher went on. "Or you can choose to have us call the police. Either way, he needs to leave as soon as possible." 

Olivia blew out a breath. She was already sliding out of bed.

"I'll be there soon as I can," she promised.


End file.
